Into the Valley
by Ankhesen
Summary: 16-yr-old Uhura moves to Appalachia to attend Stellar Valley High where she meets chronic rule-breaker Hikaru, stoners Jim & Lenny, and a beautiful Vulcan exchange student. Prequel to "...And Out to the Wilds."
1. Chapter 1

_Prequel to "...And Out to the Wilds"_

_Don't own Trek; really wish I did._

**New Girl**

"You must be so excited!"

_No. Not really_.

To be honest, 16-year-old Nyota Penda Uhura had no desire to move to Appalachia and attend Stellar Valley High School. Granted, it was the first high school which focused on prepping future Starfleet cadets, and it would go a long way towards helping her achieve her dreams, but…was moving to the other side of the world in the middle of the semester really necessary?

"…and there will be survival courses, did I mention that?" her mother added cheerfully. She had mentioned it, a million times in fact, but Nyota didn't bother. Her mother was excited, after what happened last month, Nyota didn't want to screw it up. "Granted, the wildernesses are strictly simulated, but you still have to learn to fend for yourself. Speaking of which," Bahati Uhura said suddenly, removing her hands from the console, "you take over. Just remember, remain at one-quarter impulse and—"

"—for the love of God, don't go into warp," they finished together. How many times had her parents let her fly a shuttle? She had been all over the United States of Africa in this cramped, airless little shuttle and she had yet to crash it. Not that it didn't need crashing; the dingy creation was at least ten years old, didn't have a replicator, and had no living quarters. The environmental systems also left much to be desired; Nyota could feel actual sweat forming on her brow.

"Your school will have newer shuttles, of course," Bahati assured her daughter, as though she'd read her thoughts. She was looking over her reflection in her compact and touching up her makeup. Not that she needed to. Bahati's long black, braided hair had yet to turn gray, and women in the Uhura family were blessed with healthy, flawless brown skin. Even now, in the throes of adolescence, Nyota had yet to have a full acne breakout. Knock on wood. "You can also study basic combat training, introductory quantum physics or engineering—"

"Xenolinguistics, Ma," Nyota cut in dully. How many times did she have to repeat this? "Just xenolinguistics."

"Oh, yes, yes," Bahati nodded absently, "but you should have another discipline to fall back on. Stellar Valley has an excellent preparatory curriculum for pre-med students. Have you at least considered xenobiology, Nyota?"

"No, Ma," came the flat reply. "Just xenolinguistics."

The older woman sighed wearily. "Well, you're going to be painfully disappointed. They haven't got the best selection, at least not yet. Just Vulcan, Andorian, Rigelian, a course or two in Denobulan, and a _very_ basic introduction to Cardassian. Are you sure you wouldn't like try to astrophysics?"

Nyota successfully resisted a shudder. "No, Ma. Just xenolinguistics."

"Stellar cartography's not a bad idea," came the last suggestion, and Nyota knew the battle was almost won. Anyone who ever suggested mapping stars as a full-time career was definitely grasping for straws.

"No thanks, Ma." Nyota resisted the urge to yawn. "Just xenolinguistics."

"Well then promise me you'll enroll in the diplomatic curriculum," her mother sighed. "You'll get to study culture and protocol, which is essential for a proper communications officer."

_A compromise, eh?_ How interesting! Nyota smiled a little to herself; how many years had this taken? How many "hints" had her mother dropped over the past several months…padds containing brochures for biochemistry workshops and other Complete Nerd retreats? She paused for a moment, letting the silence draw out before she finally replied, "Thanks, Ma. I'll do that."

She felt her mother's whole body relax. "Good, good. What's our ETA?"

"Twenty minutes," Nyota answered brightly, feeling a weight lift from not just her, but the whole rickety shuttle. A nearby console beeped and she checked the incoming message. "We just received clearance for Landing Pad 24, but we've only got it for ten minutes. After that, you'll have to take off."

The message actually said _thirty_ minutes, but Nyota didn't dare tell her mother that. The last thing she wanted was to be the new girl who showed up with the overly zealous mom in a glaringly ancient contraption.

Stellar Valley was a vast, beautiful complex nestled in the Appalachian Mountains. The surrounding area was beautiful, with long, blue winding rivers, thick autumn-colored forests, and deep, dark lakes. Truly, there was no shortage of untamed nature here, and it _was_ beautiful, but Nyota couldn't help but wonder what kids did for fun around.

"You'll like it here," her mother assured her, as though reading her thoughts again. Bahati did that often. "There's peace and quiet, and nothing to distract you from your studies."

_What about when I'm _not_ studying?_ Nyota wanted to exclaim, but didn't. Instead, she hastily unloaded her luggage onto a hover dolly. "Thanks, Ma. I think I _will_ like it here." She leaned to kiss her mother on her cheek. "Safe journey, home."

"Safe journey to you too," her mother replied, before hopping back into the old shuttle. Nyota left Landing Pad 4 at once, before someone spotted her anywhere near that thing.

"Dude…new girl."

James Tiberius-no-he-hadn't-forgiven-his-mother-for-his-middle-name Kirk took another long, luxurious drag off his cigarette. Students weren't supposed to smoke in the dorms, but Jim had reprogrammed the ventilation sensors to ignore smoke in his room. There was _no_ way he was giving these up. "Lenny, did you hear me? New girl!"

Lenny yawned, putting down his tall, smoky glass bong, slowly sitting up and looking at his sandy-haired friend sat at their dorm window. Jim was perched on his unmade bed, staring down at the school promenade. The small, boring gray dorm rooms, each housed in a building twelve stories high, all looked over the rushing fountains of the promenade located at the entrance to the complex. After a number of girls had turned him down, Jim had started spending a _lot_ of time watching the promenade.

"What was that, Jim?" The dark-haired youth scratched his increasingly hairy chest and reluctantly rose to his feet. The room spun a bit, but he was used to it. Ever since Hikaru Sulu had introduced the two of them to the Andorian dream leaf, they'd been smoking it day and night. It killed a lot less brain cells than Klingon tobacco, which incidentally was the reason why Lenny had been held back last year.

He came over by Jim and peered over his head through the standard gray curtains.

"Hm," he nodded. "Not bad."

"Wonder why she's transferring mid-semester, though," Jim sighed, before taking another drag.

"Maybe she had to fly in from another world," Lenny suggested, moving away, back to his bong.

Jim's didn't hear him; his sparkling blue gaze was glued to the dark-skinned girl with the black and copper cornrows and svelte green strapless dress. The golden leaf design at the bottom dress hinted at her origin.

"She's quite a cutie," he nodded slowly, memorizing her looks. "Holy shit, Lenny—look whom the staff paired her up with!"

Lenny groaned loudly, pulling himself back up to his feet and coming over to the window again. What he saw made him immediately throw back his and laugh.

If she hadn't seen the spots, Nyota would've thought her new roommate was a girl from one of the West African states. She was a beautiful girl, with light brown skin and long dark purple hair twisted in locks which tumbled down her back. She also had a silver nose stud and a matching labret piercing.

"Nyota Uhura?" she greeted cheerfully. "I'm Vira Zwan, your roommate."

"You're a Trill," Nyota whispered in awe as they shook hands. The questions came flooding. "How old are you? Are you joined? How long have you had your symbiont?"

"No, silly," Vira laughed musically. "I'm too young to be joined! The schooling for Trills who want to be joined is rigorous, so I came here to get a head start."

"What's your discipline?" Nyota asked, finally feeling the excitement her mother had predicted.

"Xenobiology," Vira grinned. "I want to be a doctor."

Nyota felt herself suddenly shrinking. They'd paired her up with a brain. While Nyota was smart enough, her gift lay in pretty much languages only. At her old school, she had struggled through the hard sciences right before her mother shipped her here.

Much to her dread, Vira asked, "What about you?"

"Xenolinguistics," Nyota mumbled uncomfortably, shifting to her other foot.

"Wow," Vira gasped, her own eyes growing wide. "You're a brave girl! Learning how to speak a bunch of different languages is exhausting. At my last school, I failed _all_ my introductory Klingon courses. The last week of school, my teacher called me a dim-witted _p'tak_ and kicked me out of class."

Nyota brightened at once, but tried not to show it. "Really? I suck at science," she admitted, right before adding something she hadn't intended to divulge to anyone. "At my old school, I accidentally blew a big hole through the side of the chem lab. It's…partly why I had to switch schools." Pause. "But in my defense, Mrs. Asante had it in for me from the get-go."

The girls laughed heartily as they entered the complex. All the walls were white, and all the curtains gray. The décor clashed with the gold and red of nature outside, but its message was clear: this was a no-nonsense school. Students were here to study.

"Do you remember taking a psychological exam before your admission?" Vira suddenly asked, as she led her through a labyrinth of halls before arriving at a turbolift.

"Yes," Nyota nodded. "It took me almost an hour to finish it."

"The tests determine which house you're put in," Vira explained. "Of course, no one tells you that until you actually get here. There are four houses at Stellar Valley: Laidley, Buskirk, Hodges and Holderby. We're in Buskirk House, and the girls' dorms are on the eastern side of our building. Every house has its own lounge and its own library. The replicatorsin the lounges only make snacks, and needless to say, won't produce any contraband. And don't try reprogramming them either; the last student who tried to replicate cigarettes failed pathetically and almost got expelled.

"The mess hall serves six meals during the day and is located at the center of the complex. There are several simulation chambers, but they're mostly used for education. However," Vira added with sly smile, "if you attend all your classes for a week, then the following weekend, you get to use the chambers for two hours however you want, and you can bring one guest." She grinned mischievously. "_I_ have a program for the Hoobishan Baths."

Nyota merely blinked. "Hoo-bi-sha—"

Vira stared at her, amazed. "Seriously? The Hoobishan Baths? They're legend!" She smirked, her dark eyes twinkling. "They're _wild_."

"Is that what students do for fun around here?" Nyota asked. It didn't sound so bad. Instead of going a few places, she could go any place. "Use the holodecks?"

Vira nodded. "And there's a lot of interest in hiking. Appalachia is beautiful all year round, and hiking's a fun way to keep you in shape. Being in shape is essential for entering the Academy."

"Makes sense," Nyota shrugged, as they rode the turbolift to the fourth floor of Buskirk House.

"You're lucky," Vira said to her as they headed the down the long, slim gray-carpeted hall towards Room 407. "It's unheard of for someone to start school here in mid-semester. You must have scored really high on the entrance exam."

Nyota sighed wearily. "I'm sure my mother just talked the headmistress's ear off until the woman accepted me."

Vira laughed as she placed her hand on a pale handprint reader glowing beside the door.

"Only staff and the occupants of a room can enter," Vira explained as the door slid open. Nyota was not even remotely impressed by wide the door revealed. Two small beds, each pressed against the wall, with a single window and two tiny nighstands between them. Each girl had a set of drawers and a closet buried in their respective walls, but Nyota knew at once there was no way all her things were going fit.

Vira's bed was covered with a sparkly purple coverlet, with a matching rug on the floor by the bed. On her side of the walls were many posters, and on her nightstand she had pictures of her family in purple metal frames.

Both girls turned to the bare side of the room which now belonged to Nyota. Vira seemed to read her roommate's thoughts.

"Need help unpacking?"

Nyota nodded, and when she responded, she tried not to sound weary. "Yeah. That'll be nice."


	2. Chapter 2

**The Ambassador's Son**

Vira helped Nyota immensely over the next few hours. As night slowly descended, Vira showed her some classrooms and the Buskirk lounge. Everywhere they went cold white walls followed them, even in rooms filled with equipment. White walls, gray carpet, no nonsense.

The uniforms at Stellar Valley were mandatory and very old-fashioned. Girls wore plaid skirts and white blouses, and special hosiery during the colder months. Green plaid for Holderby, red plaid for Hodges, purple plaid for Buskirk, and blue plaid for Laidley. Boys wore black slacks and shirts, and ties which also matched their house colors.

"Uniforms are mandatory, except on weekends," Vira explained as they entered the mess hall for dinner. "Have you replicated yours?"

"Not yet," Nyota replied, nervously smoothing her green dress. Eyes kept drifting to her; tablefuls of students murmured as she and Vira stood in line at a replicator.

The mess hall was vast, with a wide, glass dome ceiling. The stars sparkled teasingly in the distance, and there was no moon tonight. The replicators were all in one wall and several lines stretched from them. The rest of the mess hall was filled with a sea of white circular tables, and matching chairs.

The room was rather chilly and Nyota suddenly wished she'd brought a sweater with her. Everyone else was dressed for both fall and the weekend; they had on snug fleece sweaters and comfy pajama pants. Most of the students had already gotten their food, and were enjoying hot soups.

"No matter," Vira assured her, absently. "You have another day before school starts. Too bad we don't have any classes together."

"Yeah," Nyota mumbled, acutely aware of all the eyes on her. There was a sandy-haired, blue-eyed stoner in particular who watched her every move, barely blinking. His friend was practically snoring into his spice pudding.

"What's your first class on Monday?" Vira asked.

Nyota floundered, racking her brain to remember. "Introduction to Vulcan Literature at 0900. It's a prereq for the Vulcan cultural course next year."

"Mmmmm," Vira nodded, smiling dreamily. "Professor Vladimir's class. He's a cutie."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Vira cocked her head to the side wistfully, "but the school _really_ frowns on teachers and students hooking up. This Orion chick named Gaila got thrown out of here the first week when the headmistress caught her in Conference Room 3 with Professor Klauss."

Normally, Nyota would have laughed. But by now she was freezing, clutching herself and practically hopping from foot to foot. When they finally reached the replicator, she didn't care what was on the menu, so long as there was something hot.

"Oh," Vira said suddenly, her eyes full of sympathy, "I should've warned you about this room. There's been trouble with the ventilation system this semester; the staff think someone's been tampering with it. Let's eat in our dorm, okay?"

Nyota nodded avidly, her teeth chattering. While Vira quickly pored over the evening's selection, Nyota overheard a low, rumbling male voice at the next replicator over.

"Computer, _plomeek _soup. Hot."

Nyota fleetingly glanced in the direction of the voice, then did a double-take.

"Vulcan," she rasped, and thankfully it was only a whisper Vira could hear. The Trill turned to look where Nyota was staring. Both girls' eyes followed a tall, dark-haired youth with delicately pointed ears, dressed in black shirt and slacks, and an ocean blue tie. He turned away from the replicator with his steaming bowl of soup, and went towards a table where a good-looking Japanese student sat expectantly.

Nyota felt her heart stop. The chatter and cold of the mess hall faded into the background as silence filled her ears. She couldn't blink. She couldn't even draw breath.

She'd never seen a Vulcan before. Not in person. Not in living flesh.

Like a mechanical doll, Nyota turned slowly, eyes glued to his shoulders as he deftly threaded through the tables and throngs of students. He left a faint aroma in his wake; it was musky and smoky, like incense.

Nyota tried to speak, but words failed her. "Who…what…?"

Vira smirked. "_That_," she chuckled, "is Spock. He's an exchange student from the Shi'Kahr Science Academy on Vulcan."

"He's a Vulcan," Nyota gasped, awestruck.

Vira rolled her eyes. "What gave it away? The nose?"

"He's in uniform," Nyota said stupidly. "It's Saturday."

"He's _always_ in uniform," Vira snorted. "Computer, Andorian oxtail soup." She turned back to her roommate. "To Spock, wearing the same thing every day is 'logical.'"

That last word seemed to have magical properties, for it caused Nyota's heart to suddenly resume its beating with a fierce, pounding rhythm.

"Nyota? What are you having?"

Nyota had to wrench her gaze from the lithe alien, and it practically hurt to do so. She stared at Vira for several blank moments, as if trying to regain her wits. When she finally got back two or three of them, she merely echoed, "Computer, _plomeek_ soup…_hot_."

To say Vira was amused was a gross understatement; she deliberately led Nyota back through the sea of tables and past Spock's table. There was that smell again; it fleetingly made her think of an empty wooden room lit with candles. Nyota was too dumbfounded to even mentally curse her roommate. She merely clutched her hot bowl (which was burning her fingers, by the way), and shivered her way back to her dorm.

For a while, the two roommates sat on their beds and ate in silence. Nyota numbly spooned the alien broth into her mouth, while Vira resisted every urge to laugh. When Nyota had had six or seven bites, each one taking longer than the last, Vira couldn't help but snicker,

"Bland as hell, isn't it?"

Nyota set the bowl aside in defeat. Good thing she wasn't very hungry.

"You know," Vira drawled, "Spock's not actually _Vulcan_ Vulcan. He's half-human, too."

Nyota's head snapped up, her eyes wide with unspoken surprise.

"Mm-hm," Vira nodded. "On his mother's side. His dad's some sort of bigwig Ambassador."

Nyota was still having trouble thinking and speaking coherently.

"He's so…well, he's just…he is _so_…I mean, I've never…."

Vira suddenly understood. "You haven't met a lot of aliens, have you?" she asked softly.

Nyota merely shook her head.

"I'm the first Trill you've ever seen in person, aren't I?"

Nyota nodded.

Vira mulled over this before inquiring, "Is this why you want to study xenolinguistics and join Starfleet? To meet more aliens?"

"Seek out new life," Nyota murmured in a daze, staring at Vira's purple coverlet. "New civilizations."

"A noble sentiment," Vira tilted her head to the side, "but if you're going to study us and our languages, you have to stop falling to pieces whenever you see a new alien. It's unbecoming of a Starfleet officer."

Nyota kept her gaze to the floor like a chastised child. How could she explain that meeting Vira and seeing Spock had been very, very different? Vira was funny and lively and quirky in all the right ways; meeting her had been scintillating and refreshing.

Seeing the Vulcan, on the other hand, had made the whole world stop.

_Musky wood burning…smoke rising, gray tendrils leisurely drifting through a candlelit room…_her heart throbbed fiercely. What the hell was this? She'd had crushes before and they never felt like _this_. This wasn't harmless, girly daydreaming during study hours or chores. She didn't feel fuzzy or warm or even pleasantly numb. She felt as though she'd been hit by a tornado and left awash upon a cold beach, with the waves of tumultuous sea lashing at her over and over again, scraping her body with sand. It was as though someone had stolen the very air from her lungs, or the strength from her limbs.

She wasn't even standing right now, and yet she could feel her knees weakening.

"He smelled so good," Nyota suddenly heard herself say. "I could practically…_see_ his scent."

Vira nodded, understanding at once. "His roommate is Hikaru Sulu. Hikaru, Lenny McCoy, and Jim Kirk are all friends. They smoke Andorian dream leaf together all the time—yes, it's expressly forbidden; no, I don't know how they get away with it. Anyway, the smell of the dream leaf is said to create faint images in the mind's eye, like an after effect or something." Vira shrugged. "I guess they finally convinced to Spock to smoke it too."

Nyota remained in a daze. "Finally?"

Vira chuckled fondly. "Spock is in Laidley House; it's where the level-headed nerds go—the more 'analytical' minds, if you will."

Nyota raised an eyebrow. "And we are…?"

Vira beamed. "Buskirk House is home to students who don't want to simply analyze the universe, but truly comprehend and…_feel_ its nature. _You_, for example," she nodded, "want to speak to the universe and facilitate understanding between its people." Vira shrugged shyly. "I want to hold the universe's sick and wounded in my arms, and…I dunno…make it all better?"

Nyota smiled faintly at her. This was all very touching, but there was a slightly more important issue at hand.

It was as though her roommate could read her thoughts, because Vira continued, "So anyway, the kids from Hodges House are always in trouble and they're always trying to get Laidley kids to do dumb stuff," Vira went on. "It's like a challenge or something, like who can get the Laidley kids to do the dumbest stuff. They say Lenny spent all last year trying to get Spock to try Klingon tobacco. That stuff kills human brain cells, you know."

"Wait a minute…last year?" That snapped Nyota awake. "He's a junior?"

Vira nodded. "He was only supposed to stick around for a year, but I guess he must really like it here. Then again, there was this rumor about a falling out with his dad. Hikaru was telling people that he stayed on Earth to piss off his dad."

Nyota frowned. "Leave his home planet just to tick off his dad? That doesn't sound very Vulcan."

Vira raised a stern eyebrow. "Remember, he's also half-human. And that's exactly what a 17-year-old human boy would do."

The rest of the weekend passed in a blur. Nyota decorated her room, continuing the purple motif, but she managed to replicate a purple and black coverlet, striped like a zebra. As she was to quickly find out, students at Stellar Valley took their house designations very seriously. Like Vira, many kids dyed their hair to match their house colors. Some students even got tattoos to commemorate their house assignments. The Buskirk mascot was the deer, a pure-hearted creature in tune with the earth. The Hodges mascot was the mountain lion, and students joked about its students having nine lives, considering all the dangerous stunts they pulled. The Holderby mascot was a dignified wolf, and while the wizened owl graced the doors to Laidley House.

Nyota also replicated her uniform that Sunday. She was tempted to replicate the skirt a little shorter, but Vira assured it would be pointless. Winter was coming soon, the Trill reasoned, and besides, Vulcans weren't drawn to the girls with the shortest skirts. Nyota pretended as though that comment didn't sting, but it did. She hadn't realized how clueless she was about aliens.

Monday morning finally dawned, and Nyota rushed to get ready. Students were each allowed no more than fifteen minutes in the sonic shower rooms, and Nyota had been warned about being late to Vladimir's class. She made sure to arrive ten minutes earlier…just to find _he_ had beaten her at least by five.

Her mind began to race as she felt herself freeze in the doorway. _What's he doing in this class? He's a junior! _And _a Vulcan—he should already know this stuff!_

Nyota's heart suddenly went from its rapid "new girl" beating to a slower, hypnotic throbbing. She finally sat down in the front row, but she took a seat nearest to the door, ten seats away from him. To her mild frustration, he didn't look up from the padd he was skimming, while _she_ had to work very hard not to stare at him.

He was probably reviewing the weekend assignment to read and analyze a portion of _Mikonna's Lament_, a poem so old it was from before the time of Surak. Nyota had made sure to read it several times, but decided skimming it one more time before class started wouldn't hurt.

The silence stretched between them painfully. Not once did he look at her, but she knew he was aware of her presence. She thought about saying hello, but then remembered how she'd gushed over meeting Vira and decided against it. Thankfully, other students began to arrive, and luckily for all Professor Vladimir arrived latest.

He was tall, solidly built man dressed in the teacher's uniform, gray shirt and pants. Vladimir was dark-haired and green-eyed, and he spoke with a thick Russian accent.

"Very vell, class," he greeted them brusquely, assuming his place behind the gray podium. It stood near Spock, and to the side of the giant class view screen. "You know vhat your assignment voz this veekend." He tapped on his podium a few times and the poem appeared on the view screen in the original Vulcan. "Mr. Spock, read the assigned section from _Mikonna's Lament_."

Spock began to read immediately, and with each word, Nyota found it even more difficult to turn and look at him. His voice was as low and as rich as she remembered; the timbre was of the most refined and cultured quality, like a trained vocalist.

He made her think of a scribe from older times when he read.

"Bonded to bonded

Bound to bound

My handmaiden gives me flora

Twisting and twining in my blackest of hair

Her fingers soft and nimble

Her voice rich and sweet as honeyed blood

We burn altars to the _kali-fee_

So none will emerge victorious

"Bonded to bonded

Bound to bounded

I am no man's _aduna_

I belong only to my One

My She Who is Goddess of War and Fire

Who will blend tendrils of hair with flora

And walk with me across the Forge

"Tested and tested

Challenged and wasted

Give me _ahn'woon_, give me _lirpa_

_Senepa_ even, though I may not survive

Nor the _kahs-wan_ a thousand times over

Any but this pleasuring pain, this electric fever I feel

As my handmaiden gives me flora

Twisting and twining in my blackest of hair."

"Very good, Mr. Spock," Professor Vladimir commended him. "Vhat doz zis _Lament_ tell uz of ze Lady Mikonna?"

Spock raised his hand and the Professor nodded. "Succinctly, sir, this was written seven nights before Lady Mikonna was to wed Prince Saral. She was apprehensive, as they had not been betrothed in the traditional manner—according to history."

His opening statement encouraged other students to start talking. One girl, a green-haired resident from Holderby, commented, "Since they lacked the bond traditionally established at age seven, Mikonna might feel she's truly marrying a stranger."

"Not to mention pressure," another boy said, this time a purple-haired resident of Buskirk. "I mean, she's marrying a prince on the eve of a great battle. According to history, rival clans were about to go to war on the southern borders of the Forge. Mikonna's marriage therefore was of great political significance."

"Her father was a general," yet even another student added. "Supposedly he commanded a decently-sized army."

And so on and so forth the comments poured.

"Her parents wanted the alliance to work. She was under a lot of stress to live up to everyone's expectations."

"Her husband probably wanted sons. She would have had to bear heirs to a royal line."

"But then her kids would've been set above her. Historically speaking, a noble-born female who marries into a royal family doesn't always have the most respect."

Soon everyone had said something except Nyota, and that didn't pass by Professor Vladimir.

"Miss Uhura? You have a comment az vell, I hope?"

Nyota truly felt like a Buskirk deer…trapped in the headlights, as humans used to say.

All eyes, even the dark, level eyes of the Vulcan, were on her now. It was like being back in the mess hall. She could practically hear the thoughts of her classmates.

Come on, new girl. Show us why you're so special you got to transfer mid-semester.

"Well…," Nyota started tentatively, her voice slightly quavering, "I don't think this poem has anything to do with history."

The Vulcan wasn't the only one who raised an eyebrow. And Vladimir wasn't in the mood to let that one go.

"Explain, Miss Uhura," he commanded.

Nyota's voice shook as she quote Lady Mikonna's words. "_My handmaiden gives me flora/Twisting and twining in my blackest of hair/Her fingers soft and nimble/Her voice rich and sweet as honeyed blood/We burn altars to the _kali-fee_/So none will emerge victorious_." She looked away from the viewscreen, back at her class. They were all staring at her expectantly.

"Well," Nyota cleared her throat, "I think…Mikonna was a lesbian."

The silence split the room like a bolt of lightning. Then the beeps of padds came as students began skimming lines again. Even the Vulcan was rereading the verses.

Vladimir remained calm, saying simply, "Continue."

"She talks more about her handmaiden than she does her intended," Nyota tried to explain. "We know what the handmaiden sounds like, feels like. She talks about belonging not to man, but only to a female. She's praying her marriage ceremony won't work, praying so hard she volunteers to be tortured instead." From out of nowhere,her confidence kicked in. "She keeps bringing up how her handmaiden is giving her flowers and braiding them into her hair. She then talks about experiencing a 'pleasuring pain' and an 'electric fever' when her handmaiden touches her hair."

The silence continued. Vladimir scanned the room as if to say, _Going once! Going twice!_ All eyes were on the Russian now, whose lips suddenly curved into a slow smile.

Beaming, he announced, "Miss Uhura is actually correct."


	3. Chapter 3

**Boys and Girls**

That afternoon, when Vira came to the mess hall for lunch, she found a dazed Nyota sitting alone at a table, staring blankly ahead while her coffee and chicken sandwich grew cold. Vira smirked to herself, figuring Nyota must have had another run-in with the Vulcan. He seemed to have a strange power over Nyota; the mere sight of him seemed to rob the girl of all her brain cells. Vira sauntered over to the nearest replicator, ordered an Idanian meat pie and a black soda before coming to sit with Nyota.

"Well," she grinned at her roommate, "how was your first day?"

"Awful," Nyota replied mechanically. Worry slowly began to furrow her brow.

"Can't be worse than mine," Vira snickered. "I spent the whole morning studying Enaurian lymph nodes, and this afternoon I have to attend a four-hour seminar on the Vitellian reproductive system." She sipped her soda. "Try to beat that."

Nyota's response was almost robotic. "I think I may have outed myself to my Vulcan Literature class."

Vira choked on her second sip. When the coughing stopped, it was replaced by vigorous laughter.

"What happened?" she asked, when she could finally breathe.

Nyota's mind flashed back to her morning class, to the first words which condemned her.

_Miss Uhura is actually correct_.

***

"Miss Uhura is actually correct," Professor Vladimir was saying. "Approximately one hundred years before ze birz of Surak, a young noblewoman named Mikonna, daughter of General Selor and Lady T'Nar, wrote a series of poems about a young woman. Miss Uhura, are you familiar?"

Nyota mutely nodded.

"Zen please enlighten your classmates."

He typed some more onto his podium, and a new poem appeared on the viewscreen, also in the original Vulcan. Nyota recognized it at once.

Without thinking, her voice thrumming with confidence, she declared eagerly, "This is actually one of my favorites. It's the oldest known work by Lady Mikonna. It's called 'The Weaver's Daughter' and was supposedly written the day Selor gave his daughter her own handmaiden. In ancient noble families on Vulcan, when a girl reached maturity, her parents replaced her nursemaid with a handmaid—a sign she was becoming a woman.

"It was the handmaiden's job to maintain her mistress's beauty at all times," Nyota continued, "and keep all her secrets. Handmaidens even used to arrange secret trysts for their mistresses, and make sure the parents never learned anything about the lovers. But in the last line of _this_ poem, Mikonna writes, 'As I glimpse the face of my maiden/I know I shall need no private mates/For her clever eyes will keep me eternally pure.'"

"Been reading Mikonna long, Miss Uhura?" Vladimir asked.

Nyota nodded. "Her style is slightly reminiscent of the ancient human poetess Sappho. In 'Starless Bathhouse,' Mikonna writes about the joys of bathing in the presence of her handmaiden." She smiled broadly. "I always loved reading it, especially in the High Vulcan. Mikonna's love for her servant shines through more clearly in her native tongue. She also had a bit of an obsession with the handmaiden's fingers. If you read all her poems, you'll notice how she constantly brings up their nimbleness and dexterity."

As soon as the words left her mouth, Nyota mentally kicked herself. All eyes swiftly went from the view screen back to her, and even the Professor was entertaining a "special" smirk. Murmurs flooded the back of the class while the boys and girls traded obvious looks.

The Vulcan, on the other hand, merely raised an eyebrow.

***

When Nyota finished her story, Vira couldn't stop laughing. In fact, she was laughing so hardly and so loudly other students in the mess hall glanced her way. Of course, once they saw her, that "Ah" look swept across their faces, as though the sight of Vira and Nyota together automatically made sense.

Nyota's eyes narrowed. Sometimes, just sometimes, she felt as though her roommate wasn't telling her something. She had noticed very quickly that most students didn't talk to Vira; they just politely nodded and stayed away. She wasn't the only Trill at Stellar Valley, so Nyota knew it wasn't the whole "alien" thing. But it was a mystery; Vira knew everyone and everyone seemed to know her. So why didn't they speak?

A clue suddenly hit her.

"Vira," she asked suddenly, "did you say you were attending a four-hour seminar this afternoon?"

The Trill nodded, cutting into her gourmet meat pie. The sweet aroma burst through the top crust, riding the rising steam and putting Nyota paltry lunch to shame.

"You know, I had a chance to skim the Stellar Valley course catalogue several times before I was accepted," Nyota said, "and if I'm not mistaken, those seminars are for advanced-level seniors only. You're a sophomore."

"Okay, okay, okay," Vira rolled her eyes. "I have a confession. And let me just preface this with a, 'I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner.'"

Nyota merely blinked.

"I may suck at languages but I'm, like, a _prodigy_ at the hard sciences." She shrugged. "I actually graduated from my last school, but I'm still too young to be joined—or even study to be joined! My parents didn't know what else to do with me, so they sent me here. My father always wanted me to follow his footsteps and join Starfleet."

Nyota still didn't understand. "Why did you keep that from me?"

"Because it freaks people out, Nyota. Everyone here is…weird towards me," Vira admitted, and there was a note of sadness in her voice. "Even the Vulcan. He used to speak to me—briefly, of course—but he used to speak to me. Then last month, I outscored him by twenty points on a test and he just…stopped."

Nyota snorted. "I'm sure it wasn't that."

Vira was suddenly impatient. "The test was on Vulcan anatomy, Nyota."

It was Nyota's turn to laugh. At Vira's hurt look, she lightheartedly explained, "We're quite a pair, aren't we? The nerdy girl whose brain is too big for everyone, and the new girl who likes reading about girls who like other girls."

This brightened the Trill's mood at once, and soon the two were giggling together.

Nyota's next class was Intro to Starship Communications, located in Comm Lab 4 on the far end of the complex. Nyota didn't have anywhere else to be so she showed up almost a half hour early. Entrance into the classroom was in the back, so when she entered, she didn't disturb the other two students already in there. They were seated far ahead, in the first row, playing some sort of hand-held games.

She recognized the good-looking Japanese student from yesterday at the mess hall—Hikaru, Vira had called him. He was lithe, well-built, with blue highlights in his hair to match his tie. And the student next to him….

Nyota stopped breathing. How the hell did he _do_ this to her every time? Her blood started pounding in her ears and her knees threatened to buckle. She stayed quiet, sitting at an unlit console in the back, guiltily listening to their conversation.

"…don't do it, man," Hikaru was warning his friend. "You know what's going to happen if you do."

"As an off-worlder with neither parent in Starfleet, if I am to stay another semester, tuition is required," the Vulcan replied, his beautiful deep voice calm and measured. "Therefore, I have no choice but to contact my father and obtain his approval."

"That's just it, Spock," Hikaru sighed wearily. "He _won't_ approve. He barely approved this semester, and that was because your mother intervened. Can't you just sign up for classes and then forward him the bill? Won't Vulcan honor dictate that he pay it?"

"Firstly, that would be most discourteous behavior," the Vulcan replied evenly. "Secondly, I am relying on my mother's charms to prevail again. My father has always had difficulty saying no to her."

"And how about next year? You gonna have your mom fight your battles for that as well?"

"I will return to Vulcan next year," came the cool response.

Nyota felt her heart plummet to the soles of her feet. He was leaving? Already?

His words continued to fire like bullets. "Despite the excellence provided here at Stellar Valley, I have every desire to graduate from Shi'Kahr Science Academy. Nine generations of men in my family have done so and I do not wish to be the one who breaks tradition."

"Why not? You've broken tradition already," Hikaru pointed out. "Where was your allegiance to tradition when you transferred to a _human_ school?"

_Thank you!_ The spiked-haired hottie was reading Nyota's mind. More importantly, his words were giving her fresh hopes.

Of course, the Vulcan just as easily dashed them.

"As I am half-human it was reasonable to attend a school dominantly populated by members of my mother's species," the Vulcan shrugged slightly. "I have learned much here, and I have made lasting connections, but I always knew this wouldn't be a permanent relocation, Hikaru."

"Where you gonna find another roommate like me, huh?" Hikaru demanded. "_I_ am one of a kind."

"I'd rather _not_ have another roommate like you," Spock replied honestly. "You compromise holodeck security, just so you can go for dangerous experimental flights. Sometimes I fear you will return to our dorm in pieces. And let's not forget…because of you, all of my clothes now bear the odor of a certain prohibited item from Andoria."

"What about you?" Hikaru laughed. "Thanks to all that incense you burn during meditation, all of _my_ clothes smell like some old Vulcan temple."

_Incense! I knew it!_ Nyota beamed.

"Incense is not expressly prohibited by school regulations, Hikaru," the Vulcan countered. "Eventually, you, Jim, and Lenny will be caught and expelled."

Hikaru snorted, his adolescent confidence sparkling in his delicately curved eyes. "Jim reprogrammed the ventilation censors in our dorms—the staff don't even know when we're smoking. Lenny _finally_ appropriated some anti-intoxicants to counter the affects whenever its time to go to class. And yours truly has just learned to cultivate the leaf in Botany Bay 6, alongside some Coridanite orchids, so no more having to sneak it in." Hikaru beamed. "The oversized leaves of the orchids shield my babies from prying eyes."

"The intricacies of your operation are irrelevant," Spock said crisply. "Jim's tampering has had adverse effects on the rest of the complex. The mess hall, for example, is increasingly cold. Eventually, the staff will track down the source of the tampering and apprehend him."

"Well," his roommate drawled. "If a certain technical genius would just help us recalibrate the secondary processor in the environmental—"

"_No_."

Nyota's ears pricked up. Was that irritation? Irritation in the voice of a Vulcan?

Hikaru didn't miss it either. "What's wrong, Spock? Afraid to break a rule? Have you already committed your single transgression for the year? Without _me_?"

"The students from Hodges House have clearly corrupted you," the Vulcan said tiredly. "It will be your undoing."

"Better than some nerd from Burskirk House," Hikaru chortled. "Have you heard about Vira Zwan's new playmate? Word says she came out in Vulcan Lit this morning."

Nyota cringed, suddenly wishing the Comm Lab's floor would open up and swallow her. This day couldn't possibly get any worse.

"The 'word' is incorrect, Hikaru. I was there this morning. Uhura did nothing indicate she favored females over males."

"They said she was gushing over some lesbian poet, going on about 'nimble fingers' or some such," Hikaru laughed. "Which doesn't bug me—I've seen Nyota. I wouldn't mind seeing her lock lips with the Trill."

On any other day, at any other time, she would have been complimented. But since today was…well, _today_, the gods had seen fit that she should feel only awful.

"Only humans come to such conclusions," Spock said suddenly. "I can assure you, Uhura did not 'come out.' She merely demonstrated insight into Vulcan literature, which for her age and origin is unparalleled. She understood things which even I did not, and for that she should be commended, not ridiculed."

And just like that, Nyota's day got much better.

It was though the Vulcan went from stealing her heartbeat to bringing it back in force. Instead of pulling the air from her lungs, he'd breathed into them the freshest, cleanest beeze. Her head swam, as though besieged by wave after wave of endorphins.

More…she needed to hear more. Her Trill roommate had been on to something when she said Vulcans weren't interested in the shortest skirts.

Unfortunately, class was starting. Students were suddenly filing in, and Nyota had to duck when the Hikaru and Spock turned to glance at the doors. The two rose to leave the room and when they walked past her, Nyota felt her breath catch once more.

Dinnertime came, and Vira was late, probably grilling her lecturer at the seminar. Nyota was impatient; she had the first bout of good news for the day and was not about to celebrate alone. She'd already wolfed down her salad, was on her third cup of tea, and was halfway through the padd containing the additional Vulcan literary works. She really wasn't an afficionado; she'd merely gotten lucky with Lady Mikonna.

However, Nyota decided she wanted to stay lucky. If reading the works every closet case from Ancient Vulcan was going to endear to Spock, then so be it.

"Are we interrupting? We're interrupting," a voice said, causing her to jolt.

Nyota looked up to see a sandy-haired boy and his darker-haired friend. Their black shirts reeked of smoke and their red ties were crumpled.

"Nyota Uhura, right?" the first one asked. "I'm Jim Kirk, and this is my hetero life-mate, Lenny McCoy."

The two sat down without asking permission and began digging into their food. They'd replicated pizzas and something which vaguely resembled beer.

"So tell us about yourself, 'Miss Uhura,'" Jim said, heavily sprinkling pepper onto is pizza. "Normally I'd just listen to the rumors, but they've been contradicting themselves since this morning."

"I'm not gay," Nyota said flatly, wanting to get this over with. She didn't want Spock to walk in any minute and see her with these two. She'd heard him talking about them and it didn't sound as though he were a fan.

"No, but you are smart," Lenny pointed out. "You even outsmarted our resident Vulcan, which only one other student's every done before."

"Yeah, speaking of which," Jim raised an eyebrow. "How are you getting along with Vira? Does she, uh, keep you up at night?"

Nyota raised an eyebrow. "Keep me up?"

"Does she recite medical terminology in her sleep?" Lenny asked, winking. "'Cause that's what drove her last roommate to start hook with Professor Klauss that night Conference Room 3—Vira would recite up to a thousand terms and definitions in her sleep."

"You know, that girl can calculate pi to a 128 places?" Hikaru entered the conversation, coming over, setting down his food, and taking a seat. He'd replicated some Denebrian shish-kabobs and a giant dwarf-berry Slusho. Nyota eyed the blue tie around his neck and couldn't help but wonder, _What the hell is this boy doing in Laidley House? Why isn't he in Hodges with these two stoners, where he belongs?_

_And why the hell are they all sitting here with _me_?_

"Spock can only calculate it to a 122 places," Hikaru added, chuckling. "After the 122nd place his memory suddenly failed him. Vira, on the other hand, made up a little song and _sang_ her way to the 128th place."

Nyota couldn't help but smile broadly. The image of purple-headed Vira casually singing a long string of numbers to a towering, stoic Vulcan was utterly priceless.

Jim snickered suddenly, "Remember at the beginning of the year when he and Vira entered the Prisellan bacteria contest?" The boys laughed. At Nyota's confused expression, Lenny elaborated.

"The contest was all about who could identify the most strains of bacteria. Naturally, once the seniors found out Vira and the Vulcan were competing, they all dropped out at once."

"So Spock managed to identify 88 strains," Hikaru took over the story. "Vira not only identified the names of all 92, but corrected a few of Spock's identifications."

"And the _look_ on his face!" Jim laughed, causing the other boys to roar. "Who says Vulcans don't feel irritation?"

Nyota couldn't help but laugh with them, however, she wanted to make something clear. "You know, Vira's not all work and no play," she said. "She has this holodeck program for the Hoobishan Baths which, if you've done your research, you'll know they're—"

"_Wild_," the boys finished with her.

"And," Nyota added, "her side of the dorm is covered with all this kick-ass looking Trill women. I think they're rock stars or something."

Lenny snorted, "They're joined Trill."

Nyota blinked. "What?"

"They're joined Trill scientists," he clarified, "and each one's her idol. Not a single one of them is under the age of 300 or so." While the boys laughed, Nyota mulled this over.

"She's really dedicated to the sciences," she murmured absent. "I can't even imagine what that's like. When I was fourteen and studying _very_ basic anatomy under Dr. Zabuto, I accidentally caused an epidemic at my school. I lost control of a virus which took out half the teachers and three-quarters of the student population." At the appalled looks on the boys' faces, she quickly explained, "No one _died_. There just… wasn't any school for several days."

The boys roared.

Nyota smiled sheepishly, softly added, "I never told anyone it was my fault."

Jim clapped her on the shoulder. "You'll fit right in at the Valley," he assured her. "There's always something going on around here." He winked at his friends who laughed.

"Nyota Uhura?" a voice cut in.

She looked up to meet the impassive stare of the Vulcan. Those eyes hit her with such a force she almost fell backward in her chair like a dumbass.

"Spock!" Hikaru greeted jovially. "Pull up a chair?"

"Not tonight, I'm afraid," came the courteous reply. He looked instead at Nyota. "Would you walk with me for a moment?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Rumors**

Of _course_, she didn't say no.

Instead, Nyota managed to somehow scramble to her feet, and nervously, wordlessly follow Spock out of the mess hall. At first, she was excited. Then, the fear began to settle in. Did he know about her eavesdropping earlier that day? Did he wish to confront her about it?

They walked for a few minutes in complete silence, and Nyota felt her nervousness suddenly draining from her. It was a strange feeling, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized how hard it was to be nervous around him. He wasn't just calm, he _exuded_ tranquility. It wafted off him and onto her, like a serene gift.

She could smell the fading scent of Andorian dream leaf; it tickled her imagination, igniting flights of fantasies. She suddenly had visions of Spock on his homeworld, meditating in a temple hall.

…_His eyes were closed, the soft candlelight casting a golden glow upon his pale skin, turning his face and pointed ears to a pale olive shade. He looked so peaceful, so utterly composed it was mesmerizing, lulling, spellbinding even_.

He suddenly shut her fantasy down. "I take it this is your third day in the Valley?" he asked.

"Yes." She was actually tempted to say, _Yes, sir_. It was hard not to; he looked so regal with his hands behind his back, his shoulders broad, his back straight, and his gaze level and confidently raised.

"Is the school to your satisfaction?"

"It exceeded my expectations," she admitted honestly. _'Exceeded my expections?'_ Nyota blinked. She didn't normally talk like that! What the hell was happening here?

"As it did mine," he nodded. "Its curricula are almost comparable to that of the Shi'Kahr Science Academy. I have met some…challenging classmates here." They drew looks from the other students as they headed towards Buskirk House. Whispers abounded behind them, but the Vulcan smoothly ignored them.

"I wish to congratulate you on your interpretation this morning," he went on. "A 16-year-old human who reads literature in High Vulcan and can fully understand the author's meaning is a rare find indeed."

"Thank you," she nodded, briskly. She suddenly noticed her hands were behind her back. _How'd they get there?_ Her back was straight, and she looked straight ahead as she walked. _When did that happen?_

"As you can see, Stellar Valley is a large school, home to thousands of students and hundreds of staff," Spock continued. "However, you may have noticed by now, size and quantity quickly become irrelevant when a population is isolated in the mountains." He stopped just before they reached the Buskirk House turbolift. He turned to look at her, and all of her innards quivered. Thanks heavens for her hands behind her back; her palms were getting sweaty.

Out of nowhere, elated realization dawned on Nyota. _He walked me home!_

This day…this _day!_

"I would prefer not to give you advice, as I am neither your parent nor your teacher, and would not like to appear presumptuous," he began, "but I shall offer you words of caution nonetheless. Students here are easily bored and often trade in rumors as a source of entertainment. You would be wise to neglect these rumors. I myself was the subject of several speculations when I first arrived."

"Such as?" Nyota asked. It was nice of him to walk her home, but she didn't want the conversation to end already. She needed to forge a connection of some sort, and _now_. How _did_ one ask a Vulcan out on a date anyway?

Fortunately, Spock was kind enough to oblige her. "One rumor postulated that I came here in denunciation of my Vulcan heritage. Some students believed I came here to try to be more like my mother. But what they didn't realize is that despite my human heritage, my Vulcan genes are dominant and I was raised in a Vulcan manner. Make no mistake, Nyota," he stated clearly, "I _am_ Vulcan."

He said it with such control and self-assurance, her knees threatened to buckle. She suddenly imagined him in dark robes, surrounded by other students, taking lessons from a Vulcan scholar. He looked less serene and more focused in this fantasy, as he intently studied the wisdom of some long dead master.

_Oh_. Nyota felt flushed, and not in her face. What the hell was that? She'd had fantasies about boys before but they'd never done _that_ before.

Spock seemed oblivious to the effect he was having on and just kept on talking. "Another rumor decreed my father had banished me here, as he did not want to have to look upon his half-breed son," he continued. "The creators of that rumor clearly ignored the fact my father married a human and had a child with her of his own free will."

"Why _did_ he marry a human?" Nyota asked without thinking, and then immediately wished she hadn't it. It was rude and prying, and made her no better than the rumor-mongers at Stellar Valley.

Oddly enough, he was not offended. If anything, his response came out laced with what she could best describe as sarcasm.

"My father often says that as Ambassador to Earth and thereby an observer of human culture, marrying my mother was logical."

_Spock just said 'logical_.' Nyota had to work to keep from grinning like an idiot. _He just said logical! Oh, my God—I'm standing here listening to a real, live Vulcan talk about logic!_

_**Oh**_. There it was again, that heated dampening in a place not often mentioned in public. Nyota felt her whole body warming now, as a prickly wave of electricity wafted over her.

This was getting serious.

Spock remained oblivious. "Clearly," he raised an eyebrow, "his logic is flawed."

Nyota was amazed at how steady her voice came out. "How so?"

"I have been a science student since I was thirteen," he began. "I have gone on many excursions on varying planets to observe the cultures of various, non-humanoid life-forms. Did I have to marry a fanged _sehlat_ to understand its nature?" He gave that look again, that carefully masked expression of sarcasm. "Hardly."

Nyota laughed before she could stop herself. When it made him raise that eyebrow again, she confessed, "You're very witty."

He bowed slightly. "I am honored."

_**Oh**_.

_Now would be a good time to terminate this conversation_, a voice in her head told her. And it was right. If she kept talking to him, looking in those dark eyes, seeing those elegantly pointed ears, and listening to sheer refinement pour through that full-lipped mouth, she was going to do something really, _really_ stupid.

"Well," she began politely, keenly away her unmistakable growing moisture, "thank you for escorting me to my house. But it is getting late."

He gave that slight bow of his head again and Nyota felt her chest pleasantly constrict.

"It was my pleasure," he said neutrally. "Sleep well." He turned to go, no doubt to his head, just as Nyota put her first foot inside the turbolift.

"Nyota?"

She paused mid-way, preventing the doors from closing, and turned to face him.

"If you are interested in furthering your knowledge of Vulcan culture, I have the holodeck reserved for 1000 hours this Saturday. School regulations state I am allowed to bring a single guest."

It was Nyota's turn to bow her head politely. "I would be honored."

He nodded a farewell, turned and left. Nyota entered the turbolift, and as soon as the doors closed behind her, she immediately sank to the floor.

***

"…I know, I know, I'm late…but, Nyota, Dr. Liora friggin' Matair was visiting from the Trill Science Ministry—and I've been a fan since I was twelve! I got to ask her, like, a billion questions about her treatise on the enzymes and neural structures of Trill symbionts and she was just so—Nyota? You okay?"

Nyota sat on her bed, staring ahead in a daze, with a weird, faint little smile on her face.

"Nyota? Are you even listening to me?"

"He walked me home," came the murmured reply, as though it was being transmitted from another dimension.

Vira blinked, pausing in the middle of taking off her sweater. "He?"

"He asked me to the holodeck this Saturday." The faint smile spread into a grin. "He thinks I'm a rare find."

Vira came to sit across from Nyota and leaned in. "He who, Nyota?"

Finally, Nyota looked at her roommate. She was positively glow. "The Vulcan," she answered, and it came out as a breathy, dreamy whisper. "Spock walked me home from the mess hall and then asked me to be his holodeck guest on Saturday."

Vira's eyes were wide as saucers.

"Oh…we need ice cream."

The lounge of Buskirk House had white walls, gray carpets, couches, chairs, and curtains, but the large area rug was purple, with the Buskirk crest of the deer. There were matching purple cushions on the couches. The tables between the couches and chairs were wooden, with synthetic candles. They "lit up" when students sat down around them, and then "went out" as soon as the last student rose and walked away. It was quite charming, and all the lit candles gave the room a cozy golden glow.

Unlike the mess hall, the lounge had replicators in every wall, but they were smaller, and as Vira had said early, only served snacks. The two roommates ordered soft serve vanilla ice cream over Jabalian fudge brownies, drizzled with steaming Ktarian chocolate sauce.

The richly sweet desserts melted luxuriously in their mouths as they lounged on a comfortable couch by the eastern window. Outside, night reign, bejeweled with starts.

"So," Vira smirked, "start from the beginning."

Nyota told her everything, beginning with the conversation in Comm Lab 4.

"He's so polished, you know?" Nyota sighed blissfully, when she finished her story. "So sophisticated and distinguished. Human boys…human boys scratch their heads and rearrange their scrotums in public. They come to the best school on the planet, just so they get high all day. It's like they lack…they lack—"

"—discipline," Vira finished for her, nodding softly. She was using her soft voice again, which meant that what she was about to say next was either going to really sting, or….

"Are you sure you're not developing an alien fetish?"

_Yup. Stingage_.

"What I mean is," Vira rephrased, "are you sure you're not seeing Spock through intergalactic love goggles? When you have a crush on someone, it's hard to see the reality of the situation. Factor in different planets and vastly different cultures and you have a recipe for disaster."

It was Nyota's turn to get impatient. If she was going to be roommates with this Trill, she couldn't very well walk on eggshells around her every time the subject of "aliens versus humans" came up. And she didn't appreciate Vira's insinuation that she couldn't think for herself.

_I don't need you and your oversized brain explaining every single friggin' thing to me. And I certainly don't need you to fuck up the one thing good thing which has happened today. It's not my fault you're the misfit who got shipped offworld because you were a freak who write songs about calculating pi._

Unfortunately, Vira was still talking. "Alien fetishism is common, and not just among humans. I've had to pry Denobulan boys off this body. And humans! How many times have I been asked how far my spots go—"

"Vira!" Nyota snapped. "I don't have a fetish. I met him, okay? I _spoke_ with him. I learned things about his parents and his upbringing." That last part was a bit of an embellishment, but she didn't care; she was on a roll. "I like him because he's self-assured and responsible—17-year-old human boys aren't, okay?"

"You know," Vira shook her head, clearly not getting it, "I get that people would like to think we're all really, really different, but if you open us up and look at us from the inside and see how our bodies strive to keep us all functioning—"

"Vira!" Nyota barked, and this time, heads turned. She could practically hear what the other kids were thinking.

_Ohhhhh, Vira's gone and made another roommate snap. What's this—five, six, seven now? And after only three days!_

And they were right—for once, the rumors were on to something.

"Look, Vira," Nyota tried to keep her voice calm, "when it comes to understanding people at the molecular level—that's your forte. But interspecial communication? That's _my_ domain. And the first thing any true communicator understands is that we're all not _just_ walking, talking cells. There's much, much more to people." She stood up for emphasis. "Stick to what you know, okay?"

She started to walk off when Vira lightly called out to her.

"Which holodeck program he invite you to?"

Nyota froze. She hadn't asked. It hadn't mattered. He could have asked to her to attend a five-hour recording of a physics lecture and she still would have said yes.

Vira seemed able to read her thoughts. She mildly inquired,

"If you don't know what you're going to attend, how will you know what to wear?"

If Vira Zwan had a history of driving people away, then at least she'd gotten smart enough to learn how to diffuse a conflict. That night, in their room, she helped take out Nyota's black and copper cornrows, and replaced them three layers of with black and purple cornrows. This allowed the long, unbraided hair to hang loose, perfect for curling or leaving straight.

And in addition to making Nyota even prettier, Vira had acquired important info.

"Hikaru _finally_ responded to my message," she was saying, as she rubbed a soothing oil into Nyota's scalp. "It took him a while to bypass security protocols and access the holodeck database. Anyway, he says Spock has reserved Holodeck 14 for 1000 hours. Apparently, he does this every Saturday, but he runs different programs. This one is going to be _Niorah Plak_."

"'_Dark Blood_'?" Nyota raised eyebow.

"Apparently, the eccentric Klingon composer Ch'Rak was inspired by the life of Lady Mikonna," Vira mused. "He composed an entire opera about her, and wrote in it Vulcan as a present to his friend Silar, the Vulcan Ambassador to Kronos."

Nyota didn't know what to say to that other than, "He's taking me to an opera?"

"Elegant, huh?" Vira chuckled. "And very grown-up. He's either a really big fan of this 'Mikonna' poet or he chose it because _you_ like her. Either way, it works in your favor."

Nyota nodded mutely; the nervousness was coming back and robbing her of words. It was starting to hit her that this was a real date, a _serious_ date.

Well, maybe not an _official_ date, but that didn't matter. She was going to be alone with Spock, attending a grand opera, for two whole hours! She was going to be sitting by him in a darkened auditorium, soaking up his serene presence, inhaling the faded scent of the incense he burned, listening to his slow breathing in the dark.

_Oh…dear God_. Did she just…tighten? Down there? Was it supposed to do that? Was that…was that supposed to be like an orgasm or something?

_Oh, dear God!_

_Vira would know_, a voice snorted inside her hair. _She'll know exactly which nerves and muscles are doing what, and she'll even explain it all in the proper medical jargon_.

Nyota was too flustered to laugh at her own thoughts. Instead, she worked to help Vira quickly finish her hair. When it was done, she wrapped it up in a silk scarf, and then both girls went to bed.

At first, sleep eluded Nyota. Buried under her warm covers, her head pressed against a soft, cool pillow, she found herself thinking about Spock's controlled, level gaze and how it betrayed none of his thoughts. She could hear his low, deeply masculine voice in her head, each word neutrally spoken. She wondered if he would kiss her after the opera ended, how his soft, full lips would feel pressed against her own.

She wondered what his tongue would feel like, probing inside her own mouth.

_**Oh. Dear. God.**_

It…it did more than moisten. And tighten. She wasn't even sure how to describe what her body just did.

_Vira would know—_

Nyota pressed her pillow tightly against her ears, rolling over to face the wall.


	5. Chapter 5

**It's called a "Crush" for a Reason…**

Tuesday morning dawned brightly, and Nyota readied herself for her 0900 class, Introductory Romulan. Vira had another one of her long-winded seminars to go to, and she was eager as hell. She couldn't stop talking about it as they got dressed and fixed their hair.

"…and Dr. Lerik is coming in all the way from Vulcan to talk about the redundancy of Klingon organs. It's only going to be two hours long, but I can't wait. He's even bringing a real Klingon corpse!"

Nyota's head snapped towards her, almost burning herself with her curling iron. "What?"

"Yeah!" the Trill beamed excitedly. "I've never seen an actual Klingon corpse before. I mean, I've seen Denobulans, Tellarites, a whole mess of dead of Trills—"

"_What?_" Nyota asked again, even more appalled than before. "Why he can't he just use simulations?"

Vira appeared slightly miffed. "Lerik thinks that as future doctors, we will be dealing with the real thing anyway, therefore it is logical to start now and build up our detachment."

"Thank _God_ I'm just here for the languages," Nyota cringed. "Honestly, Vira—you amaze me. I'm surprised you can stomach all that stuff."

"You mean, for example, studying reproductive systems?"

"For example."

"You know," Vira drawled, "because they're an essential part of mating habits."

"Well, _duh_," Nyota muttered absently. She turned off her curling iron and rose to straighten her purple and black plaid skirt. Her white knee socks itched a bit; she was going to have to switch to a different fabric.

"'Cause _everyone_ has mating habits, you know," Vira smirked. "Including Vulcans."

As she expected, Nyota froze. Slowly, she turned to face the Trill. "What do you know?"

Vira snickered mischievously, "Not much—yet." She sighed dramatically, leisurely fingering a twisted purple lock with feigned innocence. "But I could find out. I figured if you're going to pursue a Vulcan, you might as well want to know everything about him—from the inside out."

Nyota understood immediately. "Lunch at 1230?"

Vira beamed. "I'll replicate the ice cream."

She arrived at her class almost twenty minutes early. She didn't mind that it was typically considered nerdy to do so; the complex was still a labyrinth to her and she liked using the extra time to skim previous class notes. To Nyota's delightful surprise, Hikaru Sulu was the familiar face in her Romulan class. It wasn't completely surprising, though; Romulans and Vulcans had a shared ancestry, and with Spock for a roommate, Introductory Romulan was no doubt an easy A for him.

As she smiled at him in greeting, it occurred to her suddenly that one good way to get to a guy was through his friend. And since Hikaru had so generously shared info the night before….

She snagged a seat next to him as quickly as possible, saying cheerfully, "Hey, you!"

"Hey you," he replied, winking. He flashed a very beautiful smile before adding, "_Love_ the new hair, by the way."

_Oh, wow_.

Nyota blinked, momentarily confused as her legs instinctively clenched together. How could two different boys make her body do that? Was that even possible? That didn't make any sense.

He pulled her from her disorientation with a brief question. "'Nyota'…that means 'star,' right?"

Nyota smiled, feeling suddenly shy as she nodded. What the _hell_? This wasn't right. Against her better judgment, she said, "And 'Hikaru' means 'radiance,' doesn't it?"

He slowly smiled at her again, this time even more beautifully and more radiantly than before.

_Oh…woooooooow_.

It suddenly hit Nyota…Spock might have all the grace and eloquence of a genteel, seasoned scholar, but never, ever would he smile at her like that.

This discovery made her pause and stop to wonder…was that the price of dating a Vulcan? And if so, what other prices were there? What else would she have to give up?

"_You are correct_," he suddenly said in Swahili. His pronunciation was astounding perfect, as fluid as a native speaker. "_You'd be surprised how few people know that_."

Nyota's heart flutters as she grinned brightly and replied in equally fluent Japanese, "_Some people are just lazy, I guess."_

The two of them laughed for a minute.

"Your last name, though," she frowned slightly, "isn't Japanese. 'Sulu' is a sea, isn't it?"

He smiled broadly, practically glowing. "Yes! My ancestors were sailors, and most of them weren't from the islands of Japan. My great-grandfather was captain of an infamous pirate vessel, the _Scarlet Demon_." Pause. "You know, you're the first girl Spock's ever asked anywhere."

Nyota looked downward, smiling shyly again. "It's just school stuff," she mumbled. "We like this poet from Ancient Vulcan, that's all."

"You'd be surprised how many students here like Vulcan literature—myself in included," Hikaru chuckled. "Sumek is my favorite poet; his work is even older than Mikonna's. Lots of kids like the prose of Dr. T'Nura, the ancient memoirs of Lord Seluris, _The_ _Diary of Emperor Shal_, and so forth. But despite how many of us _like_ the works, few of us actually _comprehend_ them…and _none_ of us read them in the original Vulcan."

Nyota felt her face heating. "I just like Lady Mikonna, that's all. I'm not an aficionado or expert or—"

"You have Spock's admiration," Hikaru interrupted her. "Keep up your work in Vulcan Lit and soon you'll have his respect. Very few people can make that boast."

"No pressure," Nyota murmured.

"Yeah, it is pressure," Hikaru nodded, "but good pressure. You like him, don't you?"

Nyota had to turn away slightly. "Well, yeah," she shrugged, avoiding his gaze. "I suppose he's, uh, intelligent and I too, um, admire and respect—"

"Cut the crap, Nyota," Hikaru laughed, "you '_like_ him' like him. And you're not the first girl. Your roommate used to, until she realized she could kick his ass in science. He had to stop talking to her after a while."

Nyota stiffened. "He doesn't like Vira because she's smarter than he is?"

"No," he snorted, "Spock doesn't _understand_ why Vira always has to go out of her way to show _everyone_ that she can do _everything_ better than they can. The kids around here having a saying: 'Vira knows. Vira _always_ knows.'"

_Oh…well, that makes sense._

"Anyway," Hikaru shrugged, "I think Spock is simply grateful to finally have someone here who can understand something he can which everyone else can't. Though he won't admit it, he feels like an outsider a lot."

"Yeah," Nyota nodded quickly. She was suddenly feeling guilty, as though she'd taken advantage of the Vulcan in some way. There was he was thinking of friendship, while she was lying awake at night thinking…. "He probably wishes he had…I dunno…some Vulcan girls to date instead of all these emotional chicks wandering the halls around here."

"Oh—Vulcans don't _date_," Hikaru chortled. "Their marriages are arranged when they're, like, seven. Most people wouldn't think this, but Spock has a girl waiting for him back home—T'Prinna or T'Pree or T'Something…or other."

For the second time in as many days, Nyota felt her heart plummet. "Does he _have_ to marry her?" she asked, trying to hide the tightness in her voice. "I mean, his father didn't marry a Vulcan."

Hikaru seemed oddly oblivious to the fact he was killing her softly with every word. "True, but Spock has this weird desire to fulfill his father's wishes and 'honor the Vulcan way.' He wants this to be his last year in the Valley, and he wants to join the Vulcan Science Ministry some day. He also wants to undergo the _Kolinahr_, the ritual purging of all emotion." Hikaru yawned. "You know, Spock will tell you all this bull about how he's not trying to impress his father or anything, but everything he does is for his father. That man has, like, an ironclad hold over the boy."

_Oh, great_.

"And it doesn't make any sense," Hikaru frowned, "because Spock is _such_ a mother's boy. Like, he messages her every evening. And if he doesn't get a message back by 1200 hours the next day, he gets, like, _upset—_or at least the Vulcan equivalent of being upset, and I'm not sure what you'd call that."

Despite her growing despair, Nyota had to laugh. Without thinking, she said, "You're witty."

_Waaiiit a sec…didn't I say the same thing to another boy last night?_ Nyota blinked. _Am I fickle now?_

_Dear, God…does this make me, like, a slut nor or something? What exactly defines a slut anyway? I've never met one…can a personal be an emotional slut? A conversational slut?_

She worked to calm her spinning thoughts, but it was hard to keep them under control. She had to repeatedly tell herself it was all right. She could think more than one guy was witty and charming and _incredibly_ good-looking (_did Hikaru _have_ to bite his bottom lip like that?_) especially since she had a better chance with the one now than she did the other.

Lunchtime came and Nyota was in a grim mood. She picked at her rice pilaf like a woman on death row, and when Vira showed up, the Trill almost hesitated to sit with her.

"Oh, God," she murmured nervously, sitting down with her bowl of Tarkalian chicken soup. "What happened to you?"

"My Romulan class is with Hikaru," Nyota grumbled. "Boy, was he full of information I didn't want to hear. Vulcans don't date. And _Spock_—" she practically spat his name, "—has had a fiancée since he was seven, and so not only is this Saturday _not_ a date, it's pretty much about two people who just happen to like the same writer."

She slammed down her fork, causing her roommate to jolt.

Vira's eyes were wide, but she wasn't entirely surprised about Saturday. She had wanted to explain that Vulcans were one of the trickier species to deal with, but after their last argument, she didn't want to rock the boat.

Instead, she took another route.

"Spock underwent the traditional bonding?" Now _that_ surprised her. "He's half-human—why would his mother even allow that?"

Nyota's words dripped poison. "Young bride, alone on a foreign world, no doubt trying to please her husband." She sat back in her chair, glaring at the table. "This is bullshit."

"Well, I figured it must have been a sign when I scoured the database from 1100 hours until now and found almost _nothing_ about Vulcan mating rituals."

Nyota looked up at her roommate for the first time, clearly perplexed. "Almost nothing?"

"Just the basics, and several obscure references to something called 'the Time' a 'fever of the blood'," Vira sighed wearily. "Even Dr. Lerik wouldn't share anything with me. He actually seemed offended that I should ask. Which was really weird, 'cause, like, he spent a day talking about guts and magnifying stab wounds on a view screen like it was nothing…but the second I brought up 'sex', he turned _really_ green. It's like, —it's freaky."

Nyota raised an eyebrow. Her confusion momentarily dimmed her frustration. "But his mom's human so…we must have _some_ similarities, right?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah," the Trill nodded quickly. "Penis, vagina, basic interlocking mechanism, and so forth." Vira had uttered the first two words so loudly she'd drawn looks from others. Nyota twitched and shifted in her chair as her roommate easily continued this increasingly uncomfortable dialogue. "But that's the basics, and _very_ much so. Like, Vulcans don't make out—did you know that? No one's ever seen one Vulcan kiss another. In fact, no one's ever seen one Vulcan even casually _touch_ another; they're always bowing and nodding and shit. 'Cause like, apparently they're touch-telepaths, so they show affection—or rather, what _they_ would consider affection—by touching with their middle and forefingers, like this." She grabbed her roommate's hand to show her. "It allows them to transmit…impressions, I guess? All the stuff they'd rather not say aloud."

Nyota didn't care about the demonstration. Her brain was too busy being stuck on the horrific previous statement. "_Vulcans don't kiss_?

Vira shook her head. "Sorry, girly."

"So even if Spock were to ignore the fact that he has a fiancée and go out with me…we would never kiss? Never touch? I'd never see him smile or hear him laugh...." She trailed off miserably, wondering why her first crush at her new school had to be the unequivocal, no-exceptions definition of "wrong for her."

She could never tell her mother about this. Her mother would tell the rest of the family and soon Nyota's inbox would be hit by a barrage of messages from nosy Uhuras, with no doubt a gloating, sneering cousin or two amongst them.

"I'm going to have to get over him," she nodded quickly, her voice shaking with panic like a girl possessed. "Like, right _now_. I'm going to tell him I can't make it to the opera this Saturday. And then I'm _never_ speaking to him again."

Vira fidgeted for a moment before asking, "Aren't you overreacting a little?"

"Vira!" Nyota cried. "You do _not_ understand! You can't even _begin_ to fathom the effect that boy has on me, even when he's not around. The thing my body does…I don't even know what to call it!"

Vira nodded compassionately, even as she entered clinical mode. "Vaginal moistening in response to a sexual stimulus is common in most humanoids—"

"_Vira!_"

"Okay, I'm stopping," the Trill raised her hands in surrender. "I'm stopping. I get it, all right? He…turns you on. And you want to stay away until you can learn to control it better. Am I right?"

Nyota nodded briskly. She was still too angry to speak. Her nostrils were flaring and her breathing was irregular. After a long pause, she stated in a low, clear voice, "I have to accept that I can't date a Vulcan. I don't know how it worked for his parents, but I understand it's not going to happen here."

Her roommate's voice came out a bit meek. "Actually…that's not entirely true."

Nyota raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Well," the Trill frowned for a moment, as though looking for the right words, "I'm going to take a stab at a soft science here—psychology, if you will. Spock is half human, and though I know we're not just 'a bunch of walking, talking cells'…DNA doesn't lie. We are who we are. He can fight or ignore or deny his human side all he wants, but it's there. And it will always be there. And it will always…matter to him."

Nyota simply stared at her.

Vira attempted to explain. "Back in the comm. lab, you overheard him say it was, like, logical or something to come to a human school because his mother was human, right?"

Still, Nyota just stared at her, obviously lost.

"_Well_," Vira continued tentatively, "it sounds like he came here to get in touch with his human side and understand his mother's people better."

Still….

"_Nyota_," Vira rolled her eyes, chuckling despite her impatience, "what better way can a Vulcan with a human mother understand her better than by dating a human girl?"


	6. Chapter 6

**The Softer Side of Science**

"It won't work."

"It'll work!"

"_It won't work_."

"Nyota, I'm telling you…it'll work!"

"Vira, once again, you're not getting it." Nyota sat back in her chair, her frustration with the entire world growing by the minute. She'd only been here four days and already she was starting to seriously hate the Valley. "I don't want to be the hunter here. Call me an old-fashioned female by I prefer to be pursued. I don't want to be yet another drooling human chasing after the school's only Vulcan."

Vira paused, mulling this over for a moment. Nyota resisted the urge to smirk; she knew her roommate was going to have another one of her resolutions very shortly. Her thoughts echoed back to her conversation with Hikaru earlier.

_Vira knows. Vira_ always _knows_.

Nyota smiled. As if on cue, Vira exclaimed, "Got it!"

_Dear, God_.

"In the hard sciences, it's been consistently observed that some species hunt by pretending to be prey."

"And in the softer sciences?" Nyota asked pointedly. If she had to hear any more biophysical terminology, she was going to injure her roommate.

"Think about it," Vira grinned, "what drew Spock's attention to you in the first place?"

Nyota frowned slightly. "I correctly interpreted an ancient poem."

"An Ancient _Vulcan_ poem," the Trill corrected her. "Written by one of your favorites, if I'm not mistaken. Spock was drawn to you—a human—because you demonstrated a deep connection to something Vulcan."

Nyota sighed in defeat. Her roommate was going in circles, reciting information she already knew. "I give up," she confessed, and yawned.

"Don't you get it?" Vira said excitedly.

"Obviously not."

"Nyota!" Vira grabbed her arm. "In order to get Spock to explore the more human side of things, _you_ have to be more Vulcan!"

It sounded just crazy enough to work…emphasis on the "crazy" part.

They couldn't scheme for much longer; classes were starting again. Vira had some long-winded lecture to attend and Nyota had to head for Intro to Interplanetary Diplomacy. There were no familiar faces in this class, so she sat in the back, using her padd to access the school database. She waded through introductory paragraphs on Vulcan history and tradition for an hour and a half while her professor droned on about the history of First Contact protocols (she'd read about that years ago).

Class ended and she went to her Basic Communications Engineering course. The regular professor was out sick with lungworm, so the course was taught by some Scottish senior TA who told everyone to just call him "Scotty." He was a quirky young man with a thick accent, shocking green hair, and a tendency to deviate from the assigned lesson plan. Instead of reviewing repairing techniques, Scotty taught them how to jam other people's signals, how to hack into encrypted transmissions, and the importance of knowing the difference between single and double malt whiskeys.

Nyota wasn't even sure how to react to that.

Her last class of the day was Intro to Modern Federation Thought, in which the students were exposed to an unabridged version of the Prime Directive. It was a discussion-intensive course, which required her to not only pay attention, but participate in the conversation as well.

It wasn't until 1800 when she met with Vira in the mess hall that she got to properly scheme some more.

"Hikaru messaged me back," the Trill greeted her breathily, eyes twinkling with excitement. "He sent me a list of all the books Spock's been reading for fun this semester." She handed Nyota a padd, which she greedily grabbed and began to skim, forgetting all about her Crisaylian Nine-Shrimp casserole.

"Dr. T'Avenna's treatise on the writings of Surak," Nyota read aloud. "Dr. Navor's exploratory commentaries on the ritual of _Kolinahr_, the memoirs of Ambassador Setus of Romulus, an analysis of the mating habits of Klingon _targs_, a dissertation on the physiology of Vulcan _le'matyas—_he reads this for _fun?_"

Vira rolled her eyes. "He's a Vulcan, Nyota."

"A collaborative analysis of copper-based versus iron-based blood in humaoids?"

"He's a Vulcan, Nyota."

"A comparative study of Vulcan logic and the philosophies of the human Asian population?"

"_He's a Vulcan_, Nyota—remember, you signed up for this."

Nyota placed down the padd, her brow furrowed in worry. "Maybe this was a bad idea."

"You say that now," Vira snickered, "but wait 'til you go to Vulcan Lit tomorrow. The minute he says, 'Greetings, Nyota' in that gentle, refined manner of his, and you'll go all slushy again."

"That's 'mushy,' Vira."

"Oh. Right. Whatever." Vira waved her hand dismissively. "Anyway, you'll see. One look from your boy and you'll forget all about this."

"How come Hikaru is so generous with all this information?" Nyota asked, suddenly suspicious. "This is the second time he's handed over inside info without question."

Vira grinned deviously. "He has a bet going on with Jim. See, Jim and Lenny don't think Spock will ever date a human girl—_ever_. If Hikaru wins, Jim has to let him go for a drive in his uncle's antique car. If Jim wins, Hikaru has to hook Jim up with his cousin Akemi. And since there's _no way in hell_ Hikaru's ever going to let James I-like-anything-in-a-skirt Kirk go _near_ any of his relatives…"

Nyota's eyes lit up. "He'll do any and everything to win this bet," she murmured. Her eyes snapped to Vira's. "What else you got?"

Nyota didn't make it to her Vulcan Lit class early; five of the sonic showers on her floor went offline and there was line to the shower room. However, she was right on time, arriving just after Spock and right before Professor Vladimir.

"Greetings, Nyota," the tall Vulcan bowed his head slightly. He joined her in stride, walking with her to the seats and taking one right beside her. "I trust you prepared insights for today's discussion?"

_Oh…like, damn_.

Vira was right. Vira was so right! The moment he got close, the moment the smell of incense and burnt leaves filled her nose, the moment his eyes and voice hit, she was gone.

"Yes," she nodded, forcing herself to keep her voice steady. "I found the assigned readings most agreeable."

At the word 'agreeable' he raised that eyebrow of his again, and Nyota had to resist giggling.

Vira's not the only one who knows! Hikaru knows too!

"And you?" Nyota asked, remembering not to smile. "Did you find _The Twilight Scholar_ satisfactory?"

There was a dark flicker in his eyes and Nyota could swear she saw him tense.

"_The Twilight Scholar_ is a deliberately neglected work in the world of Vulcan literature," he said stiffly. "Kurik wrote it the year he turned twenty-one and went to serve under his father, Commander Syal. He was much too young to attempt a great literary work."

"Does youth negate quality?" Nyota asked softly. "If a person is young, does that automatically mean they are incompetent?"

There was a long pause before Spock finally looked at her, and said, "No. It does not. And from a human perspective, Kurik's work is deep and moving."

"But from a Vulcan perspective?"

He definitely tensed that time, and even averted his eyes.

"From a Vulcan perspective, complete with the intimate knowledge of our culture and customs, Kurik's work is…inappropriate."

"Because it's so emotional?" Nyota asked. "When it was written, Surak was barely a teenager. Vulcans had not embraced logic yet."

"True," Spock replied uneasily, only glancing in her direction, "however, Kurik's work is still more intimate than most. No one on Vulcan quotes _The Twilight Scholar_. It's considered…deeply offensive."

"Attention, class," Professor Vladimir called. He tapped his podium a few times and _The Twilight Scholar_ appeared on the view screen, again in Vulcan. "I need a volunteer to read ze homework."

A green-haired Holderby girl with way too many piercings raised her hand. Vladimir nodded and she began,

"I am to rendezvous with the fleet at Kahral

Beyond the sand-swept Forge

And into the valley

From a distance, I hear burning

Burning

Soldiers falling, villagers fleeing

Flesh hitting floors, seeping blood

Severed limbs dyeing wood

Dyeing walls

Dying….

"There will be beer in Kahral

And beasts upon a turning spit

Cackling and sizzling with oil and spice

And concubines bound to none

My father promises me unending glory

He says my name will sung

Until the burning stars

Fall from the sky

"I should take a mate

Before I leave to Kahral

I can feel the my Time upon me

Insatiable Burning upon me

Each day my mind is frayed and fragile

I am eager for the taking, eager for blood

I feel heat, I have fever

Coursing through my veins

Resonating in the pounding of my heart

—It threatens to kill me

"I will not rest until I have marked my mate

Until we are bound like root to soil

Until I bury myself in the valley

Flowing blood to throbbing beast

I may not know rest

_Will not_ know rest

Until my enemy lies dead at my feet."

"Very good, Miss Beaverhausen," Vladimir commended her, before turning back to the class. "Vhat does this poem tell us of Kurik's mind before he goes to var?"

"He sounds bloodthirsty," one student remarked. "He actually sounds like he'll die unless he gets to kill someone."

"He sounds like the typical pre-Surak archetype," another piped up. "A savage, mindless, violent warrior."

"The Battle of Kahral is said to be one of the bloodiest in all of Vulcan history," yet another student. "Two hundred and fifty thousand dead, bodies littering the desert for miles…history records that Kurik went mad after the battle and never again served in an army."

Vladimir nodded. "His fazer died at Kahral, but his army did not fall. Why then did Kurik lose his mind? He was his fazer's heir. He was ze conquering hero."

Nyota noticed that Spock wasn't talking. Instead, he sat very straight and very stiffly at desk, eyes glued to the viewscreen, refusing to make eye contact with anyone, even Vladimir. She watched him for a time, as he pursed his lips and narrowed his dark eyes, as though he were reading some sort of blasphemy.

Finally, she turned to the viewscreen, and began rereading the words. To be honest, she hadn't been entirely sure about what Kurik was trying to say. His words so raw and primitive, so illogical and unrestrained it was understandable why Vulcans would want to keep his work under lock and key.

_Lock and key_.

Whoa…where had that come from? Nyota felt her brain racing, speeding, spinning and digging back into her thoughts, tugging at a specific memory.

Lock and key, someone had said. _Vulcans…keep it under lock and key…._

Nyota gasped.

"_…whatever it is Vulcans go through_," Vira had said, "_their whole world keeps it under lock and key…._"

Nyota racked her brain for the rest of the conversation. What had Vira said? Something about how information on Vulcan mating limited, almost nonexistent. Only general clinical information was available, but not the intricacies. Not the intimacies.

_I should take a mate_, Kurik wrote, _Before I leave to Kahral/I can feel the my Time upon me/Insatiable Burning upon me…/I feel heat, I have fever_….

Something about those words was so familiar. Nyota concentrated hard, reading and rereading them until her memories finally clicked in place.

"_Just the basics_," Vira had said, "_and several obscure references to something called 'the Time' a 'fever of the blood._'"

"Sex," Nyota suddenly blurted.

All eyes, including Spock's, turned to her. For a split second, she seriously considered smacking herself. At this rate, she was going to develop a bit of a reputation in this class.

"Miss Uhura?" Vladimir asked, eyebrow raised. "You have zomezing to add?"

"Yes, Professor—sorry," she apologized. "But I think Kurik is writing more about sex than he is war. He talks about the need for a mate, 'insatiable' and 'burning' and how he's going through a 'Time.' It's like…it like he's gone into heat or something. And that last stanza! Look at his word choice: _I will not rest until I have marked my mate/Until we are bound like root to soil/Until I bury myself in the valley/Flowing blood to throbbing beast_—it's…well it's…i-it's…it just…just sounds so…s-so…," she stuttered and floundered, suddenly realizing just how dirty-minded Kurik had been. A Vulcan pornographer! Vira was going to just _love_ this!

Unable to finish, Vladimir kindly helped her out.

"What Miss Uhura is hesitant—but correct—to say, class," he smirked, "iz zat ze poem iz rife vith sexual innuendo. Yes, Miss Uhura?"

Nyota lowered her eyes, abashed as she nodded, mumbling, "Yes, sir." An uncomfortable pause later, she added painfully, "And because Vulcans traditionally do not discuss their mating practices, Kurik's work is…" she trailed haplessly for a moment, before deciding to quote Spock, "…'deliberately neglected.'"

Oddly enough, her words seemed to ease the tension in the Vulcan at her side. For the first time since class started, he spoke.

"Once again," he began neutrally, "Nyota's…unusual mind has gleaned what readers typically do not."

'Unusual,' he'd said, but the growing whispers in the class were no doubt already translating it to 'pervert.' When it came to rumors, _pervert_ trumped _unusual_ any day.

But Nyota didn't care. It was amazing how one small clue could solve an entire puzzle. Kurik had outed his people; she knew their secret now. The reason Vulcans didn't openly discuss sex was that they didn't have a choice when 'the Time' came around. They went into heat, like untamed beasts. They lost control, lost their sophistication, their serenity.

They lost their logic.


	7. Chapter 7

**Guy Talk, Girl Talk**

Later that afternoon, the boys decided to get together for an "herbal session." As the smoke and smell of burnt leaves filled the Laidley dorm room, a single irritable voice stated, "There are too many damn rules at this school."

"What's wrong, Jim?" Hikaru snickered. "Still can't get the replicators to make contraceptives?"

"Precisely," Jim complained. "Which means that when I hook up with your cousin—"

Hikaru coughed out his interruption, "You will _never_ hook up with my cousin."

Jim Kirk's lips bore confident sneer. "Sure about that? 'Cause it's a Mission Impossible you've got going on there, bro. Face it; you're going down."

"You wish," Hikaru snorted, passing the bong to Lenny McCoy. He had to jab the bong into the poor boy's chest a couple of times to wake him. Lenny woke with a start before accepting the bong.

"You know, bro," Jim suggested, eyebrow raised, "you wanna cut back."

Lenny ignored him and took a deep hit instead.

"So anyway, I'm ahead," Hikaru relished. "Spock already asked Nyota Uhura out. They're going to the holodeck this Saturday."

Lenny choked on the smoke while Jim's jaw hit the floor.

Over on his bed, nestled in the corner with a book, the Vulcan in question sighed loudly. While his roommate was well aware of the fact he did not like being spoken of as though he wasn't in the room, Hikaru always persisted to do so, as though he were attempting to provoke an emotional response. Normally, Spock would ignore him, however, this time another person was involved and he didn't want to subject her to fresh rumors.

"Hikaru," he began clearly, "it is _not_ a 'date.' Vulcans do not 'date.'"

"Aha!" Jim shouted. "Loser! Give me your cousin's frequency right the hell now!"

Instead, Hikaru slyly turned his head slightly to the right, asking over his shoulder, "Spock? Does Nyota know this little trip you planned isn't a date?"

The Vulcan paused for a moment, before inquiring, "Why would she think it's a date?"

"Because she likes you and you asked her to be your _only_ guest to the holodeck," his roommate snickered.

"And there lies the flaw in your logic," came the dry reply. "Nyota is not attracted to me and school regulations only allow two students at a time to participate in recreational holodeck activities."

"Not if you reprogram the biosensors in the central simulation processor to ignore additional lifesigns," Lenny choked out. "A standard hexadecimal algorithm should do the trick, now that I think about it." For a split second, sheer silence filled the room, with all eyes on the only student ever to be held back at Stellar Valley. It was as though the Klingon tobacco he smoked last year had made him dumber, while the Andorian dream leaf was now having a reverse effect. The silence ended with Lenny coughing for a moment before passing the bong to a wide-eyed Jim.

"_Anyhoo_," Hikaru redirected, "I've spoken with her. She _does_ find you attractive, Spock, and very much so. She wouldn't admit it to me, but Vira knows."

Except for Spock, all the boys looked at one another and chorused, "Vira _always_ knows."

Spock's voice came out a bit tight. "But Nyota does not consider our appointment a 'date.' Need I remind you that I've been bonded to a Vulcan female who awaits my eventual return home? For me to even attempt to pursue a romance with another female would be—"

"—illogical," the boys finished together. The Vulcan raised an eyebrow. Was triangular telepathy a side effect of Andorian dream leaf as well? The corners of Spock's mouth twitched, but he masterfully resisted the smile. Just as their abysmal leaf smoke was rubbing off on his clothing, he himself appeared to be rubbing off on them.

"You're evading," Hikaru accused playfully, repacking the bong. "You haven't said anything about how she feels." He lit up and took another long draw.

"I cannot say anything when all I have to go on is hearsay, Hikaru." Spock swung his legs over the edge of his bed and leaned in, but not so much that he'd get a good whiff.

"Evading," Lenny yawned, taking the bong from Hikaru. "Spock, do you think she's hot or not?"

All heads turned toward him, and they could swear they saw him flinch. Their slightly glazed eyes were still clear enough to bore holes into him.

"I am…flattered, by her attentions," Spock admitted. "Nyota is an intelligent and insightful person."

"Like your mother," Hikaru shrugged, his voice light. Even though he was facing Lenny and Jim, he could practically feel Spock's whole body going rigid behind him. The Vulcan was probably trying to decide whether to feel insulted or informed.

"I will admit," came the tentative, measured response, "that Nyota's personality does bear some resemblance to that of my mother's."

Hikaru nodded his head from side to side. "Would explain what your dad saw in her then. Girls like Nyota…they don't come by the dozens, if you catch my drift. You've been taking Vulcan Lit all semester long and not a single girl—or guy—in that class has been able to properly interpret any of the work; you've stated this on multiple occasions. But then _she_ comes along and in two days—_two days_, Spock—she's analyzing Vulcan Literature better than you!"

He finally turned to face his roommate, who was now visibly perplexed—or at least the Vulcan equivalent.

"You came to Earth, of your own free will. Your continued stay is in direct defiance of your father's wishes." By Spock's slight wince, Jim could tell Hikaru's words had hit close to home. "Why? What you are looking for that's so important?"

The Vulcan averted his gaze, swallowing as he carefully considered his response. "I'm not looking for anything—or anyone, Hikaru. I'm _seventeen_. I have my whole life ahead of me."

"Exactly. So what's one harmless date, Spock?" his roommate insisted. "Your father says he married your mother because it was the best way to fully understand the world he was an Ambassador to. No one's asking you to _marry_ Nyota," Hikaru added quickly, when Spock would interrupt him. "But if you came to Earth to understand humans better, to understand your mother better and why your father would marry her, wouldn't it be _logical_ to follow in their footsteps…at least, in a 'junior' sense?"

His words were clearly sinking in; Spock's body language had loosened a little, and he had on his "deep thinking" face. It was a rarely seen expression, as Hikaru rarely ever convinced Spock to do something.

"I supposed," the Vulcan began falteringly, "that I could pursue…a…a…," he quickly grasped for an appropriate term, "…an acquaintance with Nyota." His eyes snapped sternly to his roommate. "Strictly in an exploratory fashion, of course."

"Of course," Hikaru beamed, before triumphantly turning to a gawking Jim Kirk. For him, Hikaru had only two words.

"Keys, bitch."

Later that evening, Vira joined her roommate in the dorm right before they were to go to dinner. She triumphantly slammed a padd down on Nyota's bed.

"_Pon Farr!_" she exclaimed, eyes shining.

Her roommate raised an eyebrow. "_Pon_ what?"

"_Pon Farr_," Vira clarified, "also known as the Vulcan time of mating. It occurs every seven years in mature Vulcans. It is characterized by a neurochemical imbalance which causes sweating, irritability, and a loss of focus, control, and appetite. _Then_," she sat down by Nyota, "the final stage sets in—the _plak tow_. Translation:—"

"'Blood fever,'" Nyota rasped. "How'd you find all this?"

"Well," the Trill drawled, "thanks our original Vulcan bad boy Kurik, the infamous scholar-turned-soldier, I managed to cross-reference his experiences with numerous others—Vulcan diplomats on assignment to interstellar conferences, officers aboard starships, scientists aboard survey vessels—you name it. In each instance, the Vulcan in question came down with a sudden fever and loss of self-control. The attending physician would then note the symptoms of a neurochemical imbalance, but before she or he could continue analysis, the patient would request emergency leave…right before returning to Vulcan."

_Vira knows_, Nyota grinned broadly, increasingly amazed by her roommate's research abilities. _Vira always knows!_

"The _plak tow_," Vira continued gleefully, "is a _really_ cool phenomenon. It's when a Vulcan's hormones peak; they become so aroused they actually start going crazy—like full-out insane!"

_Each day my mind is fragile and frayed_, Kurik had written. Turns out he wasn't exaggerating.

"And the only thing that can calm them down is…is…well—" Nyota had talked enough about sex for a week; she didn't trust herself to speak on it anymore.

Of course, Vira on the other hand….

"Copulation quells the madness," she nodded avidly. "And not just any copulation. We're talking _raw, brutal, _anything-goes,_ beast_-like fuc—"

"Vira!" Nyota cried, her face heating. Elsewhere, she felt her body responding to each enunciated syllable. Her roommate's words from earlier echoed teasingly inside her mind, like a naughty whisper. _Vaginal moistening in response to a sexual stimulus is common in most humanoids…_.

"But, wait!" the Trill exclaimed. "It gets better!"

"No, no," Nyota nervously shook her and waved her hands. "I think I've heard enough about hormones and imbalances for one day."

"Actually," Vira laughed, "I was about to mention their mythology." She picked up the padd tapped a few times. "See, according to a Vulcan philosopher who lived around a hundred and fifty years after the death Surak, Vulcans who followed Surak had renounce the gods of war, passion, and the hunt. They embraced logic, the pacifist philosophy of Nom, strict vegetarianism, and maintained very strict mating practices in an attempt to control and diminish their desires." The Trill's dark eyes suddenly gleamed impishly. "But then came the _Pon Farr_, a time when Vulcans became stripped all of their carefully developed discipline, and this philosopher—Silorian of Gauth—theorized that the _Pon Farr_ was punishment, a penalty exacted by the neglected gods who sought revenge for being abandoned. Of course," Vira chuckled, "Silorian's work was immediately dismissed as antiquated superstition."

'_The Twilight Scholar'_ _is a deliberately neglected work in the world of Vulcan literature_, Spock had told her. _Kurik wrote it the year he turned twenty-one and went to serve under his father, Commander Syal_.

"Spock's seventeen," Nyota said suddenly. "Does this mean the Time will come when he's twenty-one or…did he go through it at fourteen or—how does that work now?"

"According to my research, teenaged Vulcans don't usually go through it. However, he's half-human, and the first of his kind." Vira shrugged. "He may go through it sooner or maybe later—or maybe not at all."

Nyota's mind was suddenly rushed with images of a trembling Spock trying desperately to hold on to his self-control. His blue tie was loosened, and the top button of his black uniform shirt was unbuttoned, giving the slightest peek of pale, sweaty skin. The effect her imaginings had on her body was something akin to an explosion.

_Oh_.

"Which brings me to another issue," Vira said softly, and Nyota immediately braced herself. Vira in soft-voice, empathetic 'teacher' mode was never a good thing. "Human boys are far more hormonal and less controlled than Vulcan boys. Why, statistics on the masturbatory practices of the average human male alone—"

"_Vira_."

"Sorry, sorry," the Trill relented quickly, getting back to her original point. "What I'm saying is this: Vulcans don't masturbate; they meditate. It keeps them calm and in check at all times. But with human males, it's like _Pon Farr_ Junior all year round. Spock is half-human. If he were to become aroused, it could very well trigger an early onset of _Pon Farr_ which, as a human female, you might not be able to handle."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Nyota blinked. "Um…WTF? _Pon Farr_ is dangerous to me now?"

Vira's tone turned apologetic. "Vulcans are three times faster and stronger than humans, Ny. They sometimes call _Pon Farr_ 'the unleashing' because they can't control themselves when they mate. All that repressed emotion—seven years' worth—doesn't just bubble to the surface; it erupts. Now, it's one thing when it's two Vulcans going at it; but with you…Spock could accidentally snap your neck, break your arm, or even completely, like, _destroy_ your pelvis when he's—"

"_Vira!_"

"But he'd feel really sorry about it!" Vira added quickly.

Nyota stared at her, horrified and agape. "What happened to sweaty, hot forbidden-ness?" she finally asked sheepishly. "I finally learn that Vulcans actually _do_ have a sexy side, only to find out it's more than I can handle? _WTF?_"

"Well, Nyota," Vira said, painful discomfort clouding her eyes, "you're _sixteen_. Do you really want to start having sex? They don't provide contraception to minors for a reason, Ny; it's a deliberate deterrent to something we shouldn't be indulging, no matter how much we might want to. You could get pregnant." Pause. "It would destroy your future…while _he_ could just hop the next ship back to Vulcan, honorable or not."

Nyota hadn't thought of that. This wasn't ancient times, when people were confined not only to one planet, but single continents with a limited set of opportunities. These days, the sky wasn't the limit, but the universe itself.

Did she really want to risk all that because of a crush?

And it was strange, once she asked herself this. A new confidence infused her; an odd calm comparable to that of a Vulcan came over her for the next two days. She started paying stricter attention in class, taking more detailed notes, participating in discussions, and even going to the Buskirk House library to stay on top of homework.

On Friday, in Vulcan Lit, the class discussed the tragic tale of Princess T'Nani, whose father reigned five hundred years before the time of Surak. T'Nani's handmaiden was a dedicated and devout servant girl who brought her mistress a handsome lover. The tryst ended up impregnating the Princess, who was to be bonded to a northern King. In despair, fearing shame and the wrath of her father, T'Nani beseeched her handmaiden to help her. So her maid brought her the root of a something called a "talon tree" to kill the unborn child, but T'Nani, in her zeal to free herself, took too much of the root and died.

"Comments?" Vladimir asked the class. "Miss Uhura?"

"That'll never be me," she replied flatly, causing the other girls to laugh in agreement and the Vulcan to raise his eyebrow.

Friday ended uneventfully, and Saturday dawned, finally bringing about "the date."


	8. Chapter 8

_**Niorah Plak**_

Funny.

One minute she was all smooth-groove, and utterly invincible, and the next, Nyota found herself back at square one.

As 1100 hours grew closer and closer, her body's behavior became increasingly annoying. As she slipped on her uniform (since Spock found it logical to wear the same thing every day, so would she), the crisp white blouse felt too tight, and the purple and black plaid skirt seemed too high. She knew it wasn't the uniform that had changed; it was the circumstances. _He_ was going to be looking at her, talking to her, possibly even kissing her goodbye at the end of the date, thereby potentially triggering a violent mating cycle, and the mere thought of it all left her feeling naked and exposed.

Where was her resolve? Two days of self-confidence and willpower—gone. Already she was wondering how dark the auditorium would be, how close they'd be sitting, and if _Niorah Plak_ was going to be even remotely interesting enough to distract her from his presence.

And her roommate _so_ wasn't helping right now.

"…now," the Trill was saying, and she seemed just as nervous as her friend, "remember: _no touching_."

Nyota stopped in the middle of clasping on a necklace of replicated bone set in Bolian silver. She swiftly turned to stare at Vira in bewilderment. "No touching? At all?"

"He's a touch-telepath, remember?" Vira stomped her foot impatiently. "We don't know how mature his abilities are, but what we _do_ know is that we _don't_ want him knowing your thoughts while you're sitting next him on the verge of a nervous breakdown."

"Oh, yeah," Nyota blinked. "Good point." She turned back to her dresser, foraging for matching earrings.

"Also, remember to apologize any time you display emotion; it was a custom started by Surak himself."

"Check."

"Now, since the actual opera is only about an hour and a half long, he may want to discuss the story afterward—and other literary works in general—so for the love of God, _do not_ bring up any works which contain sex. Not Vulcan sex, not human sex, not any sex—_they don't like talking about sex_."

Nyota nodded resolutely. "Check."

"Bow your head and say 'I'm honored' instead of 'Thank you' and don't talk during the opera. Don't cry, don't laugh, and for heaven's sake, do _not_ fall asleep. In fact, it is perfectly acceptable for you to be as still and as a silent as a statue on this particular date."

"Check."

"Deodorant?"

"Check."

"Breath freshener?"

"Check."

"Are you wearing any perfume?"

"No, but I—" Nyota reached for a bottle on her dresser, but Vira quickly stopped her.

"_Don't_. Vulcans have a highly developed sense of smell; your perfume could overwhelm him."

Nyota quickly retracted her hand, shaking her head nervously. "No perfume. Check."

"All set then?"

Nyota mutely nodded.

Her roommate gave her a warm, encouraging smile. "Then madam, your chariot awaits."

She thought he was meeting her at the holodeck, but instead, he was on the other side of her dorm room door. Even Vira was surprised, and for an awkward moment, everyone just stared at one another.

"Strange," Spock finally murmured, as his dark eyes quickly scanned the room behind them. "The architects of this complex truly subscribed to the philosophy of all genders being equal. One would think that since females tend to possess more belongings than males, they would at least be given larger quarters."

"Maybe the architects were Trill," Vira shrugged, keeping the mood light. "My people have an ancient proverb: Gender is a human state of mind." She bowed her head politely before saying, "Excuse me," and ducking out past the Vulcan.

Nyota laughed before she could stop herself. When he raised that eyebrow, she quickly composed herself, bowed her head slightly and said, "Please forgive my expression of emotion. My laughter was…unnecessary."

Surprise flickered in those carefully neutral eyes, but he bowed his head in acceptance. "Shall we go?" he asked, stepping aside so she could pass.

The frantic whispers and shocked giggles followed them all the way to the holodeck door. Both ignored their schoolmates, focused on the task at hand. When they reached their destination, Spock entered his information on a side panel, saying, "I understand that humans customarily schedule their dates in the evening. However, I had reserved this time before I invited you. Please forgive."

"Forgiven," Nyota gasped, her hear and mind racing as every crazy, conflicted voice she'd ever heard in her mind joined together in harmonious song.

_It's a daaaate! He said daaaate! It's a daaaate! He said daaaate!_

"I usually practice _Suus Mahna_ at this time," he explained further. "The advanced hand-to-hand combat courses taught here do not cover it, and so I must continue my studies alone."

Before Nyota could even begin to imagine Spock studying a martial art (a thought which would have no doubt rendered her thoughtless), the holodeck doors opened, and he silently led her through.

They left the world of unruly wild-haired teenagers into one of solemn, polite sophistication. The auditorium was huge, dark, but a comfortable temperature. A large, semi-circular stage was set at the bottom, with large, majestic reddish purple curtains pulled together. To the left of it sat the orchestra, filled with musicians and instruments from dozens of planets. To the right, was a large platform with twenty-four empty wooden stools, no doubt set up for the chorus.

Richly dressed guests were filing in from all entrances, and they too were from many worlds. No one paid them any unnecessary attention, as they probably had not been programmed to. As Spock led her to their seats in a small balcony to the right of the stage, Nyota whispered, "Where is this?"

"The Emperor Hall on Deios Moon, near the Organian System," Spock murmured back. "This opera was composed and performed in honor of Ambassador Silar of Vulcan by his Klingon friend Ch'Rak. The lyrics are Vulcan, but the music and overall…texture is Klingon."

They came to their seats, two luxurious armchairs draped in lush velvet-like fabric, upon a plush maroon carpet. Nyota's heart thudded as she took her seat to his left.

"Computer," Spock said suddenly, "Ktarian champagne, chilled; two glasses."

Nyota's head snapped his way as small table materialized between them. Atop it, two Tabalian crystal flutes stood, filled with a pale green fluid.

"Synthehol," he assured her, lifting his glass, taking a small, almost ceremonious sip. She followed suit, tasting it uncertainly, but then quickly deciding she liked it.

"I am honored," she bowed her head slightly.

The chorus filed in suddenly, taking their place upon the designated platform. They were two dozen Vulcan males in dark brown robes. They took their seats in unison and gazed expectantly at the stage.

"The chorus in _Niorah Plak_ represent the soldiers, both those belonging to Prince Saral, and those belonging to Mikonna's father," Spock explained. "The Handmaiden, whose name is never revealed, sings the most songs, as this tale is primarily told from her point of view."

"Whatever happened to Mikonna and her handmaiden?" Nyota asked suddenly. The opera hadn't started, so she technically hadn't broken Vira's rules. "I've never read the actual historical data; I felt it detracted from the power of the actual work."

"Mikonna ran away from home the night before her wedding," Spock replied. "She took her handmaiden and fled into the Forge." He paused, as though unsure of how his next words would make her react. "They were never seen or heard from again."

"And the handmaiden?" Nyota tried to ignore the desperation creeping into her voice. Something told her this opera wasn't going to end well for her. "Did scholars ever uncover her name or find out if she even returned her mistress's love?"

Spock shook his head. "That information remains unknown."

The lights dimmed suddenly, and the orchestra began to the overture. The strings played a deep, rough staccato, while a drum pounded in the back. The Vulcan chorus rose, and despite their tranquil faces, their voices came out roaring and strong.

"Hail, mighty Saral!

First blood-child of the King

The Hero of the Fields of Ah'fail

Where the honored dead

Lay in eternal rest

"Their blood spilt by enemies many

Cowardly dogs who came in the night

And burnt the royal encampment down

Many a brother laid and fallen

Many a soldier dying, betrayed

But not He Who Will Be King

—Saral shall prevail!"

Their song ended as suddenly as it had begun, and the music softened to exotic horn and strings. The chorus sat down in unison once more, and the high velvet curtains, parted revealing a strikingly beautiful Vulcan maiden. Her appearance provoked gasps of awe from the audience, Nyota included. She had long, wild black hair, with skin the color of the Vulcan desert, and a plain white dress which displayed her smooth shoulders. She sat alone in a humble-looking fabric shop, atop a simple wooden chair.

And when she sang, her voice was the sweetest, most mournful soprano Nyota had ever heard.

"What blasphemy is this?

Goddess of hearth, hear me!

I, who was to be an honorable mate

Taken from my father's loom

My fingers from the very strands

My body to pay many a shameful debt

In tireless servitude

Indeed…my father's life is saved

The dreaded gambler's blade

But mine? I am over, I am ended

My worth is less than nothing

"What hideous life is this?

One day, a valley maiden

Free as the flowers, green and wild

Next day, shackled in cast-off gems

Bound to some simpering Lady's side

Our destinies intertwined

For a slave has no _katra_

Her mistress owns her through and through

She is me and I am she

Her pedestal's humble shadow

"What horrid fate is this?

O, who will aid the weaver's daughter?

Who will save the innocent child?

Does no wandering hero

Pass my simple village by?

Am I not worth a green-tainted sword?

Does no free man want me now?

Does no goddess watch me now?

"Is there no honor for me now?"

The rest of the opera followed Mikonna's work closely, even taking lyrics directly from each of her works. The actress who played Mikonna herself was a stunning Vulcan beauty, dressed in elegant robes and crowned with sparkling diadems. But what stood out the most about her was the anguish she impressively portrayed through her rich, deep voice—and _only_ through her voice. Even on stage, in view of many worlds, she retained her Vulcan composure.

Every so often, the chorus sang. Their testosterone-heavy voices added an air of militial minacity to the atmosphere, reminding the audience that Mikonna's hesitance to marry, should she be found out, could end in someone's violent death.

The Vulcan who portrayed Prince Saral was an intensely handsome man in splendid black and silver armor, armed with three swords. His pointed ears peeked through his long black hair, which was beautifully braided down his back, making him look more like an elfin warrior from human mythology than a stoic Vulcan. He sang in a deep rich voice about his thirst to avenge his fallen comrades, betrayed by a rival clan. He mostly sang with Mikonna's father, a wizened, graying lord dressed in white and leaning on a cane. The two plotted and schemed the downfall of their enemies, with the chorus answering their calls to war.

The only time Mikonna was on the same stage as Saral was when her father sang, "_Take my blood-child, firstborn and pure/Join our fertile lands/Your bonding will flood our valley/With our enemies' flowing blood…_."

Nyota could see what Spock meant about the "Klingon texture."

The tale ended with Mikonna fleeing her father's estate, and asking her handmaiden to escape with her into the Forge

"_And why shall I not?_" the handmaiden sang. "_What life is there for me here?/ Which man has done me justice, which one has loved me well?/ They none of them have a heart, these empty slaves of vice/No soul the like the beating Forge/So through sand and fiery valley, my kindly mistress/We go, we go!_" And the two women—breaking the Vulcan taboo—clasped each other's hands and fled together into the moonless night.

Nyota was immediately reduced to tears.

Even she hadn't seen them coming. Her grief was sudden, violent, racking her body mercilessly with uncontrollable sobs which, fortunately, weren't loud enough to turn any holographic heads.

_Vira is going to smack me_.

But she could help it. The Vulcan sopranist's voice was heart-wrenchingly sweet, thrumming with such deep and intense emotion, despite well-maintained calm. Her loyalty to her mistress was unwavering, and Nyota understood why now. No one had ever shown the weaver's daughter kindness or compassion; these things were not common in the dark days of Ancient Vulcan. But Mikonna…Mikonna had understood the poor girl's plight, and had loved her for it.

Nyota didn't dare lift her head as the curtains fell and the audience stood in thundering applause. Spock considerately shut the curtains of their private balcony before stating simply, "Computer, Kleenex."

_Oh…Vira is going to __**smack**__ me_.

When the tissue materialized on the table and Nyota was still too ashamed to look up and take one, the Vulcan surprised her by plucking a tissue and leaning over to lightly dry her tears for her.

_Overkill_. Nyota felt her heart splitting as she miserably tried to salvage her very last tattered shreds of dignity.

"P-Please f-forgive m-m-my e-e-e-express-sh-sh-ion—"

"There is nothing to forgive, Nyota," he assured her politely, maintaining his usual Vulcan composure. "Simply being human is not a transgression, therefore it is illogical to apologize for it. Ever," he added after a short pause.

He let her mop her face and compose herself, then helped her up from her seat before calmly stating, "Computer, end program."


	9. Chapter 9

**Aftermath**

**The Girls**

"You cried?"

For a split second, Nyota was seriously afraid her roommate was going burst a blood vessel.

"Vira—"

"_You cried?_"

"Vira—"

"YOU CRIED?"

"Vira—"

"Was the universal translator, like…malfunctioning this morning or something?"

"Vira—"

"'Don't cry! _Don't! Cry!_ Do _not_ cry!' Exactly what part of 'don't cry' did you _not_ understand, Nyota?!"

"Vira—"

"Who the hell _bawls_ on a date with a Vulcan, anyway? Are you _insane_? Are you _trying_ to get dumped your first week of school?"

Their sunset trip to the Hoobishan Baths (by way of the holodeck in the afternoon) clearly wasn't the best place for this conversation. Amidst luxuriously flowing waters and sensuously flaming torches, scantily clad holographic patrons were giving them dirty looks for bringing their girly conflicts to the resort. Nyota was painfully aware of their venomous glares, and desperately tried to calm her roommate down.

"Vira—"

"You would've been better off talking about _sex! _ And not just stuffy, pretentious literary innuendo sex, but hot, steamy, _nasty_ sex—and that _still_ wouldn't be half as bad as _crying_ at a Vulcan opera!"

"_Vira!_" Nyota finally cried, matching her roommate's volume. "He asked me for a second date!"

The Trill froze; it seemed to take her several long seconds to absorb this information. When she completed absorption, however, her mood immediately did a one-eighty.

She slowly sat back down in the hot tub, daintily retrieved her Klingon martini (syntheholic, of course) and gave a queenly wave of her hand.

"Well?" she demanded with girlish impatience. "What are you waiting for? Details!"

**The Boys**

"_You made her_ _cry?_"

"I can assure you," Spock began, even as Hikaru burst out laughing, "I didn't make Nyota cry."

"Nooo," Hikaru drawled playfully, "you just reserved a velvet-draped balcony, at a passionately romantic opera, where you offered her _champagne_—you cunning _bastard_—"

"Hikaru," the Vulcan said lightly, "it was synthehol. It didn't impair our judgment in any way."

"So what happened after the weep-fest?"

"I summoned tissues and dried her tears for her, as she was too embarrassed to face me," Spock nodded confidently.

Hikaru's laughter immediately stopped. "You what?"

Spock didn't repeat himself; he just simply continued, "She attempted to apologize for her emotional display but I assured it was unnecessary. I then ended the program so that she wouldn't feel watched. When she was sufficiently calm, I thanked her for accompanying me to the opera. I also noted that as she'd attended all her classes this past week, she'd earned two hours in the holodeck this weekend. I then offered to show her the black shores of Illias Prime if she would allow me. When she said yes, I suggested we meet again at the holodeck tonight after dinner at 0700, as humans customarily have dates in the evening."

Hikaru stared at him for several moments, jaw on the floor. Finally, he managed to ask, "You _what?_"

Spock blinked, clearly surprised by his roommate's reaction. "I had thought…I thought this was what you suggested," he said slowly, wondering if and where he'd erred. Already he was mentally replaying and analyzing his actions, as though searching for the wrong turn.

"Well, yeah," Hikaru nodded breathlessly, assuaging his concerns. Slowly, he fell back into laughter. "I just didn't think you'd actually do it!"

***

0700 hours drew close, and Nyota was even more nervous and trembling than when she burst into tears at the opera. Already word was sweeping the school like wildfire, but this time, it was all good rumors. Well…for the most part.

_Can you believe she __**cried**__ on their first date?_

Not that she cared this time; she was busy. She and Vira had spent the early evening designing and replicating a very pale lilac dress. It was strapless, knee-length, and it set off the purple in her hair. Vira was even more excited than she. She talked nonstop and darted about the room like a child with ADD.

Did Trills even get ADD?

Nyota wore the unbraided part of her hair in silky purple and black curls, with her bone and silver necklace around her neck. She settled for simple silver flip-flops, and abstained from spraying on any perfume.

"You look wonderful," Vira praised the finished product. "I'm so happy for you." She plopped down on her bed and resumed her snacking.

"Thanks," Nyota chuckled. "Is this the part where you tell me not to break the rules?"

"Oh honey, break them," the Trill waved dismissively, munching on some leftover potato crisps. "Break all of them."

Nyota smirked and raised an eyebrow. "Even kissing?" she asked slyly.

Vira grinned back at her. "_Especially_ kissing." As Nyota turned to go, she grabbed her arm and added, "But if you do kiss him, Ny, try not to pass out. I'll want my details in tact when you return."

This time, Nyota actually did meet Spock in the holodeck. He had informed her that programming the black shores of Illias Prime would take additional work, and it was worth it. For when the doors of the holodeck parted, she found herself on a vast stretch of indigo-sanded beach, with a black sea lapping away at the shore, and three distant pale moons—each in a different phase—shimmering gloriously in a cloudy, greenish black sky.

The vista sucked the air from her lungs.

Like Alice in Wonderland, Nyota walked entranced and awestruck at the exquisite alien surroundings. The opera hall on Deios Moon had been impressive, but this…whatever tampering Spock had done he had no doubt employed some extraordinary imagination.

"Do you find it agreeable?"

Nyota spun to face the speaker; Spock stood behind her with his head tilted and his hands primly behind his back. "I went to Illias Prime only once, when I was thirteen and my parents took me to see a series of theatrical performances. Despite my short time there, the impression of that world was…," he trailed off to glance at the moonlit waters before softly finishing, "…lasting."

"I can see," Nyota nodded breathlessly, turning to face the sea. "I've never been to another world before."

Her comment surprised him; she could tell by how quickly he looked at her. Something flickered in those dark eyes as he moved to stand next to her. He turned back to the rolling black waves of the Illian sea.

"Perhaps," he started reluctantly, "next weekend we can go to my world…to Vulcan."

Nyota's heart stopped and she didn't dare look at him for a moment. For what seemed like an eternity, silence stretched between them, broken only by the gentle dark waves. When she finally regained her speech, Nyota nodded, saying, "Yes. I would like that."

_A_ third _date?_ _Already? Vira is going to LOVE me!_

Out the corner of her eye, she noticed a slight upward twitch of his lips.

_Whoa, whoa, whoa…did he almost smile? Can Vulcans smile? Are they even allowed?_

"Nyota," he said suddenly, and it made her slightly jump.

"Yes?"

There was an awkward pause before he shyly—or at least, the Vulcan equivalent of "shyly"— turned to her and pulled his right hand from behind his back. He was holding a type of flower she'd never seen before; it looked like a rose, but its petals were a very light green, and it had a dark blue stem and leaves.

"My roommate informs me that it is customary for human males to present their dates with an aesthetically pleasing gift, the classic being a flower," he said slowly, uncertainly, as though trying to correctly remember something.

Nyota suddenly had a fleeting image of Hikaru giving Spock the guys' version of "the rules" and she had to work so hard, hard, _hard_ not to laugh her ass off.

"However," the Vulcan suddenly added, looking her over, "if I may be honest with you…I fail to see the logic in presenting a female with an object of beauty when…her own is so vastly superior."

Nyota's mouth dropped open slightly as she felt every chamber of her heart implode.

_**Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh….**_

Her knees were going to buckle. She was going to faint on this three-mooned beach, and leave her date awkwardly standing there wondering why he kept asking out a clearly unstable girl.

Luckily, he chose that moment to hand her the faintly-scented flower. Numbly, she accepted it without daring to meet his eyes.

"Thank you," she mumbled. "It's lovely. What is it?" she asked quickly. Maybe if she got him into nerd mode, it would keep her from melting at his feet.

"It's a Begosian rose," he obliged her. "The Begosians are neighbors to the Illias system. They distill wine from these flowers. Computer," he said suddenly, "Begosian wine, Year 2289—two glasses."

That table of his materialized again and Nyota had to smile brightly. Two Risian wine glasses appeared on top of it, filled with a very pale pink liquid. There was something youthful and sparkling in his eyes…something _boyish_ as he offered her a glass. The wine was mildly sweet, with a sort of minty kick to it.

"I had this only once when my family visited Illias Prime," he told her. Was that…excitement in his voice? Excitement in a Vulcan? "Vulcans don't usually imbibe alcohol, but my father was away at a meeting, and my mother was kind enough to…indulge my curiosity."

Was that a flash of _mischief_ in those dark eyes?

Oh yes, it was! Species was irrelevant, Nyota suddenly realized. At the end of the day, boys would be boys, and no power in the 'verse could change that.

No _wonder_ he got along with Hikaru so well!

Nyota grinned, suddenly less nervous. The more he let down that carefully structured Vulcan cool, the less…intimidating he was.

"So," she drawled coyly, far more relaxed now, "I see we've broken a few rules in our time."

Spock bowed his head slightly, the corners of his lips twitching. "Mischief is counterproductive, Nyota," he mumbled nervously…or at least, the Vulcan equivalent of being nervous.

"Are you sure?" she teased. "Because this doesn't even _remotely_ taste syntheholic."

Spock paused, looking everywhere but her for a moment before he confessed, "I may have…uploaded the molecular structure of Begosian wine into the holodeck's replicator matrix this afternoon."

"Spock!"

He immediately defended himself. "It seemed reasonable to reprogram the matrix in order to create an exact reproduction, so as to provide you with the most accurate presentation of my experience at Illias Prime." He paused, taking in the smallest gasp of breath.

A Vulcan…winded by his own overly verbose explanation? She had to resist a laugh.

Instead, Nyota raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "Spock," she asked dryly, "was this the 'additional work' you said the program would require?"

He looked away from her towards the sky. The moonlight fell clearly upon him, illuminated pointed ears deeply tinged with green.

He was _blushing!_

"The original program had only two moons," he said finally, with the slightest miffed tone. "As that was also inaccurate, I reasoned it warranted remedy as well."

"If you say so," Nyota laughed, and lightly sipped her wine. Now that she was certain it was real, she didn't dare drink deeply. "I would never imagine you to so brazenly defy a clear-cut regulation."

The Vulcan shrugged slightly. "Something I inherited from my mother, perhaps." He turned to look at her. "Shall we walk?"

They walked for a time, and he told her more about his journey to Illias Prime. He was a delightful storyteller, clever and witty, even if his humor was unintentional. Nyota was fully relaxed and enjoying herself by the time the holodeck alerted them about the end of their two hours.

He walked her to the Buskirk House turbolift, where he stopped to say goodbye.

"It was a pleasure," he told her, and though he maintained his Vulcan stance and neutral gaze, there was something…happier about his countenance.

"I am honored," Nyota replied. "I look forward to visiting Vulcan next weekend."

There was that almost-smile again. He bowed his head slightly, and looked like he was about to leave, then hesitated.

"Nyota…."

"Yes?"

"My roommate also informed me of the human custom of a…," he trailed, before forcing himself to finished, "'goodnight kiss.'"

_Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, no_.

She wouldn't be able to handle this. She was _not_ going to be able to handle this.

"Would you…," he started reluctantly, "I mean…may I…?"

Nyota nodded quickly and speechlessly, feeling like a trapped deer.

_Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God_.

He dropped his hands from behind his back. After a long second, he put his hands on her waist, but only lightly so.

_Oh, God_.

And then…he leaned in, the smell of burnt leaves and incense strong.

_**Oh, God**_.

Nyota instinctively tilted her to the right and closed her eyes. She felt him softly press and brush his lips against hers, and felt his warm breath on her cheek, which caused her to shiver. She jolted slightly; she hadn't realized his skin would be so warm. It was practically burning.

_Vira didn't tell me about the difference in body temperature!_

The kiss was chaste, more likely given out of curiosity at this point than affection, and she was fine with that. Was she not also curious?

He slowly pulled back, looking at her with the strangest mix of wonder and curiosity. She expected him to say something thoroughly Vulcan within the next few seconds, and braced herself not to laugh. However, he surprised her by proffering only a single, simple word:

"Fascinating."


	10. Chapter 10

**The Ex-Files**

**The Boys**

"I am _not_ going to teach you how to masturbate."

Spock merely blinked at his clearly appalled roommate, but he was too confused to be offended by the crudeness of that statement. "Hikaru, I was merely inquiring as to how human males—"

"Look, I know we're close," Hikaru cut him off, hands raised in panic as if to ward him off, "and I'm flattered that you trust me, and I am _so_ glad we get along. But this…this is going too far. If we don't end this conversation now, it could seriously fuck up our relationship."

"I'm merely trying to understand the adolescent human male ritual of…self-soothing," Spock finished delicately. "What is its true purpose? How is it done? Why is it such a necessity for human functioning?"

"Why the hell are you asking?" Hikaru hadn't meant to sound so shrill, but the Vulcan was sincerely freaking him out. And the really bewildering part was that Spock, despite all that brainpower, couldn't even realize what he was doing. To him, things were either cultural or clinical, with no human in between.

"If I am to understand my human half, should I not be more participatory in traditional human male activities?" Spock asked. "So far, my willingness to indulge certain human customs has produced satisfactory results, there for the reasonable course of action would be to explore them further. The flower, for example, seemed to charm Nyota. The wine allowed her to better understand my time on Illias Prime, thereby bringing us closer together—bonding us, if you will. And the traditional 'goodnight kiss'—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!" Hikaru stopped him. For a moment, he started at his roommate, unable to recognize him. "You kissed Nyota?"

"Yes," Spock nodded, and there was something self-satisfactory about it. Like he'd mastered a new move in _Suus Mahna_, or effectively learned another Romulan dialect.

Hikaru was so astonished he found himself stammering like an idiot. "B-but..b-but why?"

Spock blinked again, and this time, there was a flicker of worry in his eyes. "Because," he began hesitantly, "…you told me to?"

"I didn't think you'd actually _do_ it!" Hikaru exclaimed. There was that shrill voice again; it seemed to have an adverse effect on the Vulcan, for he winced slightly and his ears turned a little greener.

"Waaaiiit a minute," Hikaru drawled, slowly putting the pieces together. "You kissed her last night? After the date?"

"Affirmative." Again, the confident nod.

"Was it…agreeable?"

"Very much so," the Vulcan stated, "for both parties. I sensed a rise in her temperature as well as a mild emotional impression of…pleasure." He seemed to utter the last word with triumph.

Hikaru's lips worked to keep from laughing. When he was sure he was under control, he asked slyly, "And how did you sleep last night?"

His roommate shifted slightly on his bed, and averted his gaze. Hikaru felt his chest was about to explode with restrained laughter, but he knew it would be too cruel. This was all very new for his roommate, and he didn't want to be the insensitive human bastard who traumatized him.

"There was some…discomfort," Spock admitted with pained hesitance. "The side effects of kissing were unexpected and unfamiliar." He paused for a moment, lost deep in thought. "This didn't happen the last time I attempted to orally meld with another humanoid."

Hikaru felt the Earth stop spinning as his own heartbeat came to a screeching halt. For a moment he seemed incapable of drawing breath, and when he finally could, he furiously demanded, "The last time you _what_?" Before Spock could reply, Hikaru was on his feet, frantically pacing the room like a scorned wife. "When? With whom? Where? And where the hell was I?"

Spock dutifully answered each question. "Thirty-three days ago. With Vira Zwan. In Science Lab 7. You were having ah…herbal session with Jim and Lenny."

"Vira…," Hikaru trailed off, shocked into speechlessness as his chest threatened to explode, this time from sheer bafflement. When he spoke, his words dripped with the utter loathing of one horrifically betrayed. "You…kissedwith that…that talking _encyclopedia?_"

"I was thinking of you the whole time," Spock quickly assured him. "I recall feeling unprepared and uninformed about how to conduct a proper oral meld."

"_Goddamn it, Spock it's called a 'kiss'!_" Hikaru roared. "I thought all you pointy-eared types are supposedly incapable forgetting shit once you learn it! And do you _seriously_ expect me to believe you were regretting not talking to me first before you locked lips with that chatty, spotted, _unjoined_ roommate repellant!"

Spock's voice came out sheepishly, or at least its Vulcan equivalent.

"She doesn't repel Nyota," he softly pointed out.

"Does she know?" Hikaru demanded lowly, eyes serious and dangerous as he came to stand in front of his roommate and lean in. "Does Nyota know you two had a thing?"

"We did not 'have a thing'," Spock clarified, slightly miffed. "Vulcans appreciate females with highly developed intellectual functioning. Unfortunately for Vira, we also require females with appropriate communication skills. She and I were merely curious, and it was primarily an anatomical curiosity, not an emotional one. I neither have nor had any desire to pursue her, and vice versa."

Hikaru sat down, momentarily pacified. "She's not going to like this, you know," he shook his head. When Spock simply replied with a confused expression, Hikaru wearily attempted to explain. "Human females—_especially_ teenaged females—can be…highly territorial when it comes to romance."

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow. Hikaru immediately recognized Spock's "intrigued" face.

"They don't like to share," he continued simply. "Like, _really_ don't like to share, when it comes to guys. This permanently could damage her friendship with Vira."

Spock shook his head. "Your logic is flawed," he said confidently. "I do not want Vira; she does not want me. Our oral—our _kiss _occurred prior to Nyota's arrival at Stellar Valley, and Vira and I have not spoken to each other since. Ergo, I do not foresee conflict should Nyota learn of our history."

Hikaru leaned towards his roommate and spoke very, very slowly to ensure comprehension. "Spock," he began lowly, "do you really believe that when Nyota—an adolescent, hormonal human female—finds out the guy she likes _a lot_ kissed her roommate—the same roommate she confides _everything_ in—and no one thought to give her that precious little tidbit of information…do you _honestly_ think her reaction is going to be 'logical'?"

**The Girls**

"So," Nyota asked, taking another bite of her Coridanite open-faced sandwich, "was there, like, tongue?"

"God, no," Vira shuddered. She squirted a bunch of ketchup onto her Denebrian potato fries. "We never got past the lips."

"How come?"

"Well, by now you've noticed Vulcans have an extremely high body temperature."

"Which you failed to mention."

The Trill rolled her eyes. "For the millionth time, Ny, I'm sorry. But humans are fairly warm-blooded themselves, so for you it's not that big a deal."

"And Trills…."

"Aren't," Vira shook her head. She grabbed her roommate's wrists for emphasis. "Feel how cold my hands are? It's not just the mess hall doing this—my skin feels like that all the time."

"So—" and here Nyota couldn't stop herself from giggling, "—you were too cold for him and he was too hot for you?"

Vira winked and snickered, "Something like that. You should've seen the look on his face after he jumped back like a startled kitten."

Nyota threw back her head and laughed, and her friend laughed with her.

"Why didn't you just tell me this before?" Nyota asked when the laughter subsided.

Vira cocked her head to the side. "Honestly…would you have still wanted to go out with him if I had? I _know_ my humans, Ny."


	11. Chapter 11

"**Self-Soothing" for Dummies – Vulcan First Edition**

"I _cannot_ believe I'm actually doing this."

Hikaru sat on his bed, hands between his knees, head miserably hanging down. Across from him, on his own bed, Spock lay on his back, eyes closed as instructed, and hands dutifully lying at his side.

"Belief is irrelevant," Spock reminded him. "We had a wager. I wagered that Nyota would not be upset by my oral mel—_kiss_—-with Vira. I spoke with her in Vulcan Literature this morning and not only did she know about the kiss, but she was not upset. You wagered she would be, and you lost. Now you have to…'pay up.'"

"Spock," Hikaru groaned uncomfortably, "please don't make me do this. This is _So. Not. Human_."

"On the contrary," Spock countered, almost robotically, "I have heard other male students—Jim Kirk included—discuss the group form of self-soothing; in ancient times, humans referred to it as some sort of circle."

Knowing _exactly_ what Spock was referring to, Hikaru shuddered. "Man," he cried desperately, "can't you just ask for something else?"

"Negative. Please proceed as per our agreement."

"Can't you just look it up in the school database?"

"I found the clinical data succinct and insufficient," Spock shook his head, eyes still closed. "Please proceed."

"Okay," Hikaru sighed in defeat. His roommate had always been an honorable young man, and it would be wrong to let him down. Hikaru thought for a moment, trying very hard to discern a strategy. "All right," he sighed again. "Let's see how I can phrase this."

"A moment please, before you start," Spock interrupted.

Hikaru raised an eyebrow, grateful for the delay. "Yes?" he asked patiently, keeping his voice light.

"Do human females also engage in this behavior?"

Hikaru laughed softly, genuinely amused. After a brief pause, he finally replied, "Some won't admit it, but yes. They do."

Spock swallowed, as if having some difficulty with what he wanted to say next. "Do you think…Nyota…'self-soothes'?"

"Possibly," Hikaru replied. An idea suddenly hit him, and the inspiration shone brightly in his eyes. "Let's think about that, shall we? Let's think about Nyota while she's…'self-soothing.'"

"Very well," Spock nodded slightly, eyes still closed. "And where am I to imagine she'd be…'self-soothing'?"

"Well," Hikaru struggled, _really_ not want to be there, "she could be in the sonic shower, _or_," he added, hoping his roommate would take the hint, "lying on her bed _alone_ in her dorm room while her roommate is far, far away and not due back for several hours."

"Understood," Spock nodded slightly again. "I choose the latter vision."

"Fine, whatever," Hikaru bit out. "Okay…uh…imagine that she is—"

"A moment, please."

"What now, Spock?"

"I fail to understand the purpose for this mental exercise and its relation to self-soothing."

"_Well_," Hikaru pushed through clenched teeth, his fingers digging into his thighs, "you recall the 'discomfort' you felt that night after kissing Nyota?"

"Yes, I do."

"We're trying to recreate that."

Though he kept his eyes closed, Spock's brow furrowed in puzzlement. "I do not understand."

"Spock," Hikaru twitched, growing less uncomfortable and more irritable, "be logical. Ff you don't have any 'discomfort,' then you won't have anything to _soothe_. Get me?"

"But the night of my initial discomfort, I remedied the problem through meditation."

"As is the Vulcan way," Hikaru nodded quickly, "but we're not Vulcan today. We're trying to be human today, remember?"

"Of course, however…I fail to see the logic in deliberately creating discomfort."

Hikaru answered honestly. "Because the soothing is _immensely_ pleasurable, Spock; it's more than worth the discomfort."

"Understood," Spock nodded slightly. "Please proceed."

Hikaru cleared his throat uneasily before continuing, "Fine. Nyota is on her bed. She is alone in her room. Think about her for a moment."

A moment came and went, but the Vulcan remained impassive. "This isn't working, Hikaru. Perhaps your technique is flawed?"

"Spock," Hikaru rubbed his eyes wearily, "is Nyota wearing _clothes_ in your vision?"

"Of course."

"Yeah…you're going to have to get rid of those clothes, bro."

For the first time since their "session" began, Spock's eyes snapped open and he looked at his roommate, appalled.

"That is hardly appropriate!" he protested.

"Yeah…_that's the point_, Spock," Hikaru tried to explain. "To explore and indulge all things wicked and forbidden and 'inappropriate.'"

Spock was repulsed, and not the Vulcan equivalent. Disgust read clear in those dark eyes. "Perhaps this was a bad idea."

"_You think?_" came the exasperated yell.

"I find it barbaric to engage in any activity in which I am required to imagine a female unclothed for purposes which do not involve procreation."

"_Spock!_" Hikaru barked suddenly, finally at his wits' end. "You're not dating a Vulcan girl—you're dating a human, for Christ's sake! And you better get used to thinking about her naked, because somewhere in Buskirk House—whether alone in her room or alone in the shower—Nyota's thinking that way about you! She's hot and wet and touching herself _inappropriately_ while moaning your name! She's…longing for you to do more than kiss on your next date. She's thinking about how uptight and repressed you look in your uniform and she wants to—oh, I don't fucking know—un-repress you? She's probably imagining what certain parts of your body that _I will __**not**__ name_ taste like! It's called _lust_, Spock! It's raw, animal, and human! And if you want to keep your girlfriend from sneaking into some other guy's dorm while you're sitting here _meditating_ on a weekend night, then I suggest you take your holier-than-thou attitude and just—"

"_Ohhh…_."

Hikaru's mouth hung open in horror as he watched his roommate's back arch and his head roll to the side, moaning loudly. The Vulcan clutched at his bedspread, dug his fingers painfully into the mattress and sank his teeth into his bottom lip, drawing blood.

"Hikaru," the Vulcan rasped, "keep talking…I feel…I feel the discomfort rising…please…say more…."

Hikaru could only gawk at him stupidly, mortified beyond speech.

"Please," Spock gasped, speaking between tightly drawn, uneven breaths, "keep…keep talking…I feel it…." He bit his bottom lip again, and this time groaned so loudly, Hikaru knew any student passing in the hall could hear.

"O-okay," his roommate sputtered awkwardly. "Uh…uh…okay…so where-where is the-the dis-discomfort located?"

"It is here," Spock whispered, reaching down quickly and unfastening his slacks. Shamelessly, completing forgetting himself, he succumbed to instincts he would have never even guessed he had. He pushed his hand under his clothes, and began grabbing and stroking. "Hikaru…Hikaru…this is…this is—"

"Right then!" Hikaru leapt to his feet and bounded for the door. He would have fled down the hall, except some students were standing outside talking and looking at their door.

"Uh…Spock is just trying a new form of meditation," he told them quickly, letting the door shut behind him. Unfortunately, fresh moans pierced the door and walls; they were a visceral mix guttural groaning and growling.

Not daring to peek his head back in, Hikaru instead banged on his door and bellowed, "_Would you keep it down?_"

When that didn't work, Hikaru tried plan B: give up and leave your roommate to his own humiliation.

After torturing his entire floor for several moments, Spock finally lay spent staring and gasping at the ceiling. He felt the same way he usually did after he'd mastered a new skill, as though he'd learned something new about himself. It was….

_Fascinating_.

His mind suddenly jumped to a definition he'd come across long ago in a basic anatomy class.

…_A peak of the __plateau phase__ of the __sexual response cycle__, characterized by an intense __sensation__ of __pleasure__. Experienced by both __males__ and __females__, it is controlled by the involuntary, or autonomic, __limbic system__, and is accompanied by quick cycles of __muscle contraction__ in the lower __pelvic muscles__, which surround the primary __sexual organs__ and often associated with other involuntary actions, including muscular __spasms__ in multiple areas of the body, a general __euphoric__ sensation and, frequently, body movements and __vocalizations__ are expressed_.

Those crisp, clean medical descriptions suddenly had new meaning for him; in fact, much of basic medical jargon now held new meaning. He couldn't wait to further his research in this area of anatomy. Not since his first lesson in _Suus Mahna_ had Spock known such…exhilaration.

Even more confounding was how by indulging his more primitive instincts, he'd actually _cleared_ his head instead of clouding it. He felt refreshed, strong, and relaxed. It was like meditation—but with mind-shattering pleasure.

If what Hikaru said was accurate, then somewhere, Nyota was feeling the same thing, thinking as he thought, wanting what he wanted.

He felt…eager for their next date.


	12. Chapter 12

**What's the Difference Between a Slut and a Tease?**

**The "Slut"**

"I'm never speaking to him again."

"It will _be_ all right."

"I can't do this anymore. Our relationship is _over_. I never, _ever_ want to see him again!"

"You're overreacting. He misses you, you know; some point you'll have to answer his messages. People are already forgetting about that whole…mess. They're now worried about the two of you. You'd be surprised to know how many people liked the thought of you two together. You were the paradigm of interspecial harmony."

"No, you don't understand! They heard him saying _my_ name when he did it. The _whole_ school is talking! I have never had so many people paying _this_ much unwanted attention to me. They give me looks like…like…you remember that Orion chick? Gaila What's-Her-Face? Those looks—I'm getting _those_ looks!"

"You're imagining things," Vira Zwan cajoled, reaching out to gently stroke the quivering shoulders. "No one thinks you're a slut. No one even thinks you're sleeping with Spock—it's preposterous. You need rest, a _proper_ night's rest, in a real bed. Maybe if you started sleeping in your dorm room again—"

"Damn it, Vira!" Hikaru Sulu yelled, his face distraught and his hair wild from spending the night on a couch in Buskirk's lounge. "I didn't come here for advice, so could you _not_ be a friggin' know-it-all for thirty goddamn seconds?"

"Well, what did you expect?" The Trill exploded right back. "You come into Buskirk's library looking like a refugee from Satan's Anus, you come over and collapse on the couch next to _me_, of all people—did you really think I'd actually be able to keep my trap shut?"

"No," he sighed wearily, leaning back into the couch and slightly towards her. "Guess not."

"I'm Vira," she fumed, "I _know_, remember? I _always_ know." She sighed exasperatedly "Hikaru, why don't you go back to him? Just let him say he's sorry and work on things from there."

He turned away from her suddenly and moved to sit on the edge of the couch. "You…don't…_understand_, Vira! I already tried that! But the moment I start walking down our hallway, my throat constricts and I can't breathe. And just when I think it can't get any worse—_hives_, Vira! I actually break out into hives!"

The Trill nodded compassionately. "Psychosomatic symptoms are consistent with traumatic experience," she assured him. "Perhaps _talking_ to him will remedy that."

"_I aroused him, Vira!_" Hikaru looked on the verge of another meltdown. "I actually talked him into getting hard and then—and then—" He shuddered, his whole body quivering in pure revulsion. "I can't just _talk_ to him after that!"

"Clearly, homoeroticism is not your cup of tea," Vira interjected, when it looked like he would burst into tears. She didn't want to see Hikaru burst into tears; it didn't fit. "Therefore, a heterosexual experience just might resolve your crisis."

Hikaru looked up at her slowly, eyes wide with childlike worry and wonder. "You really think so?"

**The "Tease"**

Nyota Uhura met Spock after her Intro to Romulan class. He was sitting alone in the mess hall, fiddling with something which vaguely resembled a harp. She didn't approach him directly; she wasn't sure if he was in the mood to deal with people.

For the past twelve hours or so, he'd been dealing with people…a lot.

Jim Kirk had warned her that people were talking Spock all the time now, and that she might want to brace herself. She really didn't want to have to deal with this, but she knew she had no choice. She was practically his girlfriend now. His roommate and dear friend wasn't speaking to him (the rumors were having a field day with that one) and he couldn't very well fall back on Jim and Lenny, not when an overwhelming percentage of the male students were certain Spock got turned on by guys.

_Explains why it's taken so long for him to date a girl_, went the popular whisper. _She's probably just his beard._

_I knew it! _went another whisper_. He and that Sulu guy always got along waaaaaay too well…_.

Nyota shivered, and it wasn't just the mess hall causing it.

She hesitated a moment longer, watching the Vulcan. He was clearly sad, or at least his people's equivalent. His eyes remained lowered, as if afraid to meet those of his peers. It was strange to think of Spock, the stoic, analytic, untouchable Vulcan, as being afraid.

And…it didn't help when some green-haired Holderby passed by him, winked and called out, "Hey, Spock!"

"Hello, Marina," he greeted courteously, ever the gentleman. He even gave a slight bow of his head.

"Hi, Spock," another greeted. She was a fiery red-head from Hodges. She and her girlfriends passed him, giggling and whispering.

"Hello, Gates," came the soft reply.

"Hey, Spock!"

"Good morning, Denise."

"Yo, Spock! Lookin' good!"

"Thank you, Nichelle."

"Hey, cutie! Feeling down?"

"I am well, Kate. Thank you for your concern."

"See in you astrophysics, Spock!"

"I will see you then, Jeri."

_Whoa, whoa, whoa_... Nyota frowned, alarm piercing her whole body with sharp, jagged stabs. Was there a pattern developing here? Who were all these girls and why were they talking to Spock? Why were they being so very extra friendly? Where did they get off being so…unabashed about telling him he looked good?

Who the hell was _Jeri_ and since when did she look forward to a _science_ class with Spock?

What was next? Was Vira going to suddenly decide she wanted him again and invite him back to Science Lab 7 for a night of dissecting and cataloguing specimens? Nyota swept forward like a suddenly desert storm; she quickly nabbed a seat by the Vulcan and made sure she sat _close_. Unsurprisingly, the girls immediately stopped talking, though some kept giving him "looks". One brazen bitch even bit her bottom lip and winked.

It did more than make Nyota twitch.

_WTF? I'm the good-looking new girl. I befriend a nerdy Trill, start dating a nerdy Vulcan, and people roll their eyes._ A whole floor, _on the other hand, hears Spock masturbating for the first time, and now all the girls want him. Exactly where is the justice in this situation?_

"Well," Nyota greeted cheerfully, boldly stroking his right arm. "You're popular today."

"Ashamed, actually," he said lowly. "I have heard quite disturbing stories about myself."

"What's that you told me about ignoring rumors?" she grinned.

He looked uneasy. "This time…it's different."

_I'll bet it is_. "How so?" she asked gingerly. She was, as Vira would say, going to take a stab at the soft sciences and help Spock through. "What's different?"

"Speculative rumors are worse than substantiated rumors," he replied stiffly. "If word of my…emotional display gets back to my father, he will withdraw his tuition payment from the school accounts and order my immediate return to Vulcan." He looked up at her finally, meeting her eyes with a clear impression of despair. "I would find that…most disagreeable."

"And Hikaru? Have you gotten to speak with him at all?"

The Vulcan shook his head. "He won't return my messages. I've assured him that I practiced a few times since he's departure, and have now learned to…operate quietly, but…he still won't speak to me." He paused. "Our room feels so empty now. I had to replicate a Vulcan lyre as I anticipate further silence."

_Oh. So that's what that thing is_. It was a beautiful and elegant-looking instrument. When he plucked the strings the tune them, they made a haunting sound.

"Look, Spock," Nyota began in her most supportive tone. She was interrupted by a beeping padd. The message was from Vira, and it was urgent. "Oh," Nyota winced. "Your roommate _is_ still upset and will not be returning this evening."

Spock lowered his head in defeat, causing her heart to go out to him. She reached out to lightly touch his arm. "Spock," she said gently, "how about we spend the evening together? I'll come to your room and we can talk about tomorrow's assignment."

At the words "I'll come to your room" the Vulcan brightened immediately, and not just the Vulcan equivalent. His entire body language changed. It was strange because only seconds ago he was grieving for Hikaru as though he were dead.

Nyota smirked. _Human, Vulcan, hybrids…boys are all the same_.

Spock made sure his dorm was spotless before Nyota arrived. He made both his and his absent roommate's bed, cleared the floors of shoes and books, and was grateful that Andorian dream leaf hadn't been smoked for several hours. The room smelled far more respectably now.

He had several ideas for this impromptu "date" with Nyota; he had spent half the night thinking of all the ways they could "soothe" together. After last night, after recreating his "discomfort" over and over, he finally understood the torment he was putting Nyota through. He was now more than eager to soothe any _discomfort_ she was feeling.

She showed up on time, 1900 exactly, smilingly warmly and carrying padds of Vulcan Literature. It made sense to Spock; she wouldn't want to enter his dorm empty-handed, as it would not reflect kindly upon her. He took them from her at the door, set them down on Hikaru's bed and then turned to greet her.

"I have looked forward to your visit with great anticipation, Nyota," he said, before leaning into kiss her.

Nyota accepted the kiss, expecting it to be short and chaste like their first one. He smelled more like burnt wood than burnt leaves and she felt her insides quiver. He pressed his mouth against her once, twice, and then again and again. She realized suddenly that he was seeking entrance.

Nervous, she allowed it. When his searing mouth began to explore her own, her knees threatened to buckle, just as they almost did on the black shores of Illias Prime. Heat swept through her everywhere, making her nerves tingles and her skin hum. She was dimly aware of his hands on her waist, pulling her closer, pressing her to him.

Shakily, she reached up to touch his neck. His skin was burning, as she expected, and it felt wonderful. She sank her fingers into that rich, black Vulcan hair and marveled at its silky texture. As their kiss deepened and intensified, their breathing became rapid, until they were both gasping uncontrollably and…Nyota was the first to moan.

Before she could mentally slap herself, the completely unexpected happened. Spock picked her up in his arms and effortlessly carried her over to his bed. As he lay down beside her—still not breaking the kiss—Vira's words echoed through her mind.

_Vulcans are three times faster and stronger than humans, Ny_.

_Wow_, Nyota dreamily mused. _Spock must take after his father then_.

He was touching her now, over her uniform of course, but he was surprisingly confident and, well, _accurate_.

_Guess all those lessons in anatomy weren't a total waste…_.

He pulled away from her for a split second to deftly remove his tie and shirt. For the first time, Nyota saw his bare chest, all faintly olive and still youthfully smooth*, and for the first time in her life, the sight of a bare chest made her panic.

_Dear God—he better not expect me to reciprocate!_

Her underarms weren't shaved and she wasn't wearing a pretty bra. A Vulcan might be too enlightened to care about these things, but she wasn't. And she wasn't sure she was ready for a boy she'd known for just over a week to see—much less touch—her bare breasts.

There were rumors enough in this school.

"Spock," she began to object, but he covered her mouth with his, sliding his body over hers and pressing her further into his mattress. She was suddenly covered with pure, living, breathing warmth, as though his body was as personification of the Forge. Her body responded to him at once; her hips jerked upwards before she could even think to stop them.

Alarm bells began to go off in Nyota's head as he continued to kiss her mouth and then started on her neck. His kisses were increasingly ardent and he was starting to make noises unlike any she'd ever heard from a boy. They weren't soft, awkward moans. His noises seemed to come from deep within his chest, as though from his heart itself. They sounded like growls, dangerous and low.

Their pelvic regions were pressed together, and what she felt from him let her know the growling was genuine. It made her feel flattered…and afraid.

It didn't help to have Vira's voice running through her mind either.

_They don't provide contraception to minors for a reason, Ny…you could get pregnant_.

_It would destroy your future_.

"Spock," she tried to protest once more, and it came out thickly from her throat.

"I hear you," he rasped harshly between kisses, each one hotter than the last. "You feel it too, do you not?"

"Spock," she meekly tried once more. It was difficult to say anything beyond his name now that his mouth was assaulting hers, over and over again. She suddenly realized that at some point, he'd pinned both her wrists above her head, and was now grinding his hips into her.

_Vulcans are three times faster and stronger than humans, Ny_.

This time, the words filled her cold dread.

He was now pinning her wrists together with his left hand alone; with his right, he began undoing the buttons of her blouse. Before she could object, his hand impatiently slipped in, and his burning fingers eager stroked her flesh. When he'd pried her blouse open wide enough, he slowly lowered his head.

"Spock," Nyota said finally, and this time, her voice bordered a sob. "We have to stop."

*Sorry-I _cannot_ stand hairy chests!


	13. Chapter 13

**No Good Deed…**

Spock blinked, trying to think and slow his breathing. He stared at her for several seconds, as though she'd uttered her objection in an unfamiliar language.

"What?" he asked finally.

Nyota was a torrent of emotions. She was afraid he would ignore her objection. She was terrified he would respect it, but then never speak to her again. And she was turned on—intensely.

Tears welled in her eyes and threatened to run down the sides of her head.

"I said," she choked out with difficulty, "we need to stop."

Disbelief spread out clearly across his face. For several moments he simply looked at her, even as his body still pinned hers to his bed. Slowly, the disbelief turned to confusion.

"I do not understand," he admitted finally. "Do I do something wrong?"

"No," she assured him quickly. "You were doing everything right—too right, in fact."

"So you enjoyed my ministrations?"

Nyota swallowed tensely. "Yes."

"And yet you asked me to stop," he blinked, clearly not understanding. Whoever had been educating him about sex and girls had clearly forgotten to mention this part.

_Goddamn you, Hikaru!_

"Spock," she began very, very carefully, mainly because he still hadn't let her up, "I gather that you wish to take things…all the way?"

"Affirmative," he nodded slightly. "I wish to divest us both of clothing and engage in activities which will bring us both to the peak of the sexual response cycle. It is my understanding that alone, I can experience great pleasure. But with a partner, we can achieve feelings of euphoria."

Nyota blinked for a moment, running his words through her mental nerd-to-English dictionary. When she was able to divine "I want us both to have an orgasm" from all that jabber, she nodded, ready to proceed.

"Okay, Spock," she said, maintaining a calm, careful tone, "_that_ sort of activity is reserved for adults, not teens. Any psychologist worth their salt would tell you this. _Yes_, are bodies are developed enough to perform those activities, but _no_, it doesn't mean we should actually _do_ them."

_Now_ he let her up, and moved so that he knelt beside her. While he paused to analyze her words, she hastily buttoned her blouse and moved to put a little distance between them.

"I do not understand," he finally confessed. "We were enjoying ourselves. I fail to see the logic in stopping."

"Sex isn't logical," Nyota replied at once. It was important he understand this now. "In fact, there's an old saying that sex makes you stupid. It feels so good that you stop thinking and don't factor in all the variables…like pregnancy."

_That_ sank in at once. Spock snatched up his own shirt at Vulcan speed and immediately buttoned it all the way to the top.

For a split second, Nyota thought she was going to laugh.

_Humans, Vulcans, hybrids…boys really are all the same_.

The P-bomb she dropped left a discomfited silence in its wake. After they'd awkwardly sat side by side for a time on his bed, Spock broke it first.

"Is becoming pregnant your only fear, Nyota?"

She mentally rolled her eyes. _Boys…_.

"No, Spock. You have to understand that you and I don't know each other that well. Sleeping with someone you don't know very well is not considered respectable behavior."

"So…more time would have to pass before we could consummate?"

_Boys!_ "Well, yes," Nyota began uneasily, repressing her laughter, "preferably when we are much older."

"But Nyota, I may not be on Earth at that time," he pointed out, his brow furrowing. "I only have one more semester after this before I return to Vulcan."

Nyota's entire body froze. "You mean…you're not staying? You're not finishing out here at Stellar Valley?"

"No," the Vulcan blinked simply. "I have struck a compromise with my father. I will complete my junior year before I return to the Shi'Kahr Science Academy. After I finish there, I will join the Vulcan Science Ministry."

"And…what's to become of me when you're on another world?"

Now it was his turn to freeze. He obviously hadn't thought of that.

"I did not—I never—"

"You never stopped to think about that," she snapped, rising to her feet and going over to Hikaru's bed. She angrily snatched up the padds as she spat, "Of _course_, you didn't think. Let me guess—I'm an experiment, aren't I? Concocted by you and your misguided Sherpa of a roommate. I'm just here to satisfy your Vulcan curiosity—"

"_No_."

The single word came out with more force than she would have ever imagined him capable. In a second he was on his feet standing in front of her, eyes beseeching hers.

"I…like you, Nyota," he started tentatively, as though searching for the right words. "I think of you often when you're not present. This was a surprise to me, as Vulcans do not date. We have mates pledged to us at the age of seven. However…I don't _have_ to bond with T'Pring when I am older. And I don't _have_ to live the rest of my life on Vulcan." He paused, turning to pace for a moment before saying, "You say we are too young to engage in sexual activity. That is not our only limitation at this age. If my father ceases to pay my tuition and summons me home, how am I to stop him?"

"You can get scholarships," Nyota shrugged, her voice trembling with anger and despair. "God knows you're bright enough. And after senior year, you can enter Starfleet. I mean, why study science on Vulcan, when the entire galaxy can be your laboratory? New life, Spock, new civilizations, new ways of thinking. You already have the thirst and the curiosity—_why not follow through?_"

Spock stared at her for several long moments, processing her words. It was as though she'd presented him with options no one else had, not even Hikaru. Her passion was also an excellent added touch.

"I will stay, Nyota," Spock said suddenly, and there was a strange texture to his voice, a level of seriousness and vulnerability. "I will try to do everything I can to stay. But you have to promise you will not lose patience with me so quickly the next time I blunder. This is all very new and very confusing to me. Even now, after our discussion, I still fail to see the logic of complete abstinence, as I foresee extensive…discomfort in the future." Pause. "Does this mean when you're alone in the shower or alone in your dorm, you're not naked and touching yourself while thinking of me?"

"_What?_" she demanded, stepping back. Nyota had been on the verge of throwing her arms around him and saying, yes, yes, yes to anything. But then he had to go and ask _that_.

"It was an image Hikaru created when he was teaching me to masturbate," Spock replied. "He assured me that as I was feeling discomfort, and was in need of soothing, so were you."

She could only gape at him for a moment. _Note to self: Hikaru is an idiot_.

"Spock," she said lowly, with a slight quaver in her voice, "obviously, I am attracted to you. And yes, I too think of you when you're not around—_a lot_." The corners of his mouth twitch, indicating his delight. "But Spock, it is way too early for us to have that particular conversation."

He nodded. He probably didn't understand, but he nodded anyway.

"And Spock? The next time you have questions about you and me, ask _me_, not your roommate."

"Agreed," he stated immediately, but Nyota had to wonder if she meant it.

***

"Whew, I'm telling you bro," Jim Kirk shook his head. He lit up a fresh cigarette and leaned back onto his bed. "The ugliest words in the human language are when a girl says, 'We have to stop."

Spock nodded with just the faintest expression of bitterness. "It was like having my abdomen gutted with the blade of a _lirpa_."

Jim snorted. "Amen, pal. Last week Marina Frakes and I were making out, and just when she was about to go down for the first time, she panicked and said she had to study. Left me standing in Comm Lab 6 with my pants down."

The Vulcan shuddered at the thought of Jim's naked dangling organs and repressed the image at once. He had more disturbing things to think about anyway, such as a long string of sexless dates with Nyota.

Hikaru suddenly entered Jim's dorm, followed by Lenny, who quickly blocked his escape.

Betrayed, his eyes shot daggers at his friends. "You lied to me!"

"Hikaru," Jim said amiably, "calm down. There's nothing to freak out about."

"I tend to concur, my friend," Spock said, rising to his feet. "It is agreeable to see you again. I assure you, I intend you no harm."

"No harm?" Hikaru bellowed. "_No harm?_ Because of you, I had to perform a walk of shame out of_ my own dorm room!_ I spent the night on a sofa in the house lounge. Some jerk actually asked me if there was, 'Trouble in paradise.' This afternoon I made out with an icicle for an hour just to reverse the feeling of being violated by you!"

Jim and Lenny were confused. "Icicle?" Lenny inquired.

"He means Vira Zwan," Spock explained quickly. "Hikaru, I am sorry. I am deeply, deeply sorry. I did not intend to humiliate you. Please forgive me—I cannot endure another day without your companionship. Some things have happened and…," the Vulcan struggled before finishing, "…I need to talk to you."

"Yeah, man," Jim added. "He like just had his first _really_ hot make-out session with Nyota."

Hikaru blinked; all animosity seemed to drain from his face at once.

"Really, dude?"

Spock nodded with the eagerness of a perplexed child.

Hikaru came into the room further and took a seat by Jim on his bed, while Lenny and Spock sat on the other bed.

"Well," Hikaru primly brushed his slacks. "Details?"

As the boys lit up Lenny's foggy bong, Spock regaled them with the evening's tale. He tried to be as descriptive as possible without being crude. When he finished, he looked at his roommate expectantly.

"Ouch," Hikaru flinched. "I gotta tell ya; the ugliest words in the human language—"

"I _know_, Hikaru," Spock interrupted. "What do I _do?_"

His roommate shrugged. "Give her what she wants. Give her some time. A week _is_ pretty soon, Spock, and the replicators won't produce contraceptives. She has a right to feel apprehensive. She'll be really dumb not too."

It was the second time he'd heard someone say something to that affect, but for some reason, here, amongst these three, it got the wheels in his head turning.

"Hikaru," he said suddenly, "the mess hall is freezing."

"Uh, yeah," Lenny rolled his eyes. "We reprogrammed the ventilation sensors, remember?"

"Yes, but you did not recalibrate the secondary processor in the main environmental controls," Spock raised an eyebrow.

"Duh," Jim scowled. "Aside for that alcoholic TA Scotty, you're the only one who can, and last I checked, you refused."

The Vulcan resisted a smirk. "Until now."

Hikaru cocked his head to the side. "What do you want, Spock?"

"I need you to cultivate for me a _rak'charan_ in one of the airponics bays. Botany is not one of my strongest suits, a _rak'charan_ requires expert attention."

Lenny and Jim looked at each other. "A _what?_" they asked together.

Hikaru was not so clueless. "A _rak'charan_," he repeated grimly. "In the Crisaylian, the literal meaning is 'unborn killer,' but in Ancient Vulcan it was called the 'talon tree.' Highly toxic, if memory serves."

"Only when administered incorrectly," Spock shook his head. His eyes sparkled with triumph and his lips were threatening to smirk again. "But when consumed by males and females in mild doses, it prevents conception."


	14. Chapter 14

**People with Agendas**

"Whoa," Lenny raised his hands in protest, "whoa, Spock; what you're suggesting is seriously dangerous. There's a _reason_ why your ancestors called it the 'talon tree.' Granted, I'm a stoner, not a scientist, but if I recall correctly, the cilliodioxin present in the root of the talon tree has been known to _kill_ humanoids. It tends to react negatively with our myriad circulatory systems, congealing the blood in some of us, and fatally thinning it in others."

Once more, he got the "look" from the other boys. Sometimes Lenny McCoy got the impression they thought he was the village idiot or something. It was as though they kept forgetting the fact that even though he did get held back last year…_he was still here_. Like, did it ever occur to them there was an actual _reason_ for that?

"_Anyhoo_, let's not forget that a _rak'charan_ isn't a mere flower or primarily subterranean plant like a potato or a beet—it's a tree," Hikaru returned to the conversation. "I think the horticultural staff will notice a friggin' _tree_ growing in one of the botanical bays."

"Can't you initiate genetic re-sequencing to breed a smaller, less toxic version?" the Vulcan suggested.

"Yes, but that would require the careful experimentation of a scientific _genius_, Spock!" Hikaru cried.

All the boys looked at one another at the same time before yelling in unison,

"_Vira!_"

Hikaru nodded rapidly, rising to his feet and pacing the room as a strategy formed in his mind. "She would know how to manipulate the genetic structure as well as how to create optimum growing conditions for the final genetically altered result."

"But then you'd have to find something _she_ wants, and hand it over without question," Lenny pointed out.

"Unlikely," Spock shook his head. "For Vira, simply being involving in a scientific challenge is reward enough." Pause. "An admirable trait, now that I think about it."

"But what if it isn't enough?" Lenny insisted. "Last I checked none of us is rolling in credits, exactly."

"Or better yet, Hikaru," Jim snickered derisively, "what if she wants more of whatever it was you gave her this afternoon?"

Hikaru merely shrugged. "Then I'll take one for the team."

There were eyebrows raised all around. Even Spock gawked at him in disbelief before he haltingly asked, "You'd…be willing to…_date_ Vira Zwan?"

"If necessary," Hikaru shrugged again. When all he got in return for his generous offer was silence, he exclaimed, "Guys! You're not seeing the big picture here! The replicators won't produce contraceptives and no one—not even Scotty—has been able to convince them to do otherwise. You can't smuggle them in; their molecular structure is tagged by every sensor imaginable. You can't transport them in because Stellar Valley is fortified as hell; an unauthorized transport would result in an emergency lockdown and, when the person responsible is found, expulsion—no exceptions.

"But a tincture from the _rak'charan_...," Hikaru's eyes glazed over, and not from the Andorian dream leaf. "A homegrown contraceptive completely unmonitored by the staff...dudes, that's like, _leverage_. At least half the boys and girls in this school would _sell their souls_ just to get some."

Even the Vulcan was almost grinning.

"See this," Jim shook his finger at Hikaru and Spock, "_this_ is precisely why the two of you aren't allowed to break up. Listen to you—it's sheer brilliance. And I'm not surprised it specifically took _you two_ to figure it out. You share a common ancestry, after all."

Hikaru and Spock were confused. "Common ancestry?" Hikaru blinked.

Jim shrugged. "Spock's a Vulcan, you're a Romulan."

"_Romulan?!_" Hikaru shouted, appalled.

"Hey!" Jim yelled back. "Not only did you manipulate both Spock _and_ me to get what you wanted, but you played us at the same _time,_ while we were sitting in the _same damn room_—don't think I didn't notice that."

Spock was in agreement. "Your tactics did bear an uncanny similarity."

Hikaru flushed under the shrewd gazes of his friends. He finally decided to take their statements as compliments and begrudgingly replied, "Whatever. We've got work to do."

"So, basically," Vira mused, while the girls lay back on their beds enjoying grapeseed masks before bed, "buried underneath all that rational, analytical, sophisticated thought is yet _another_ hot-blooded adolescent." The Trill snickered. "Why am I not surprised?"

"See, that's just it, Vira," Nyota shook her head. "Even after I asked him to stop, Spock remained very logical about everything. I mean, I won't lie—it was hot."

Vira snorted. "Please. Vulcan logic and teen hormones don't go hand in hand, Nyota. He would've said anything to keep going."

Her roommate's face heated. "I'm not going to get a wink of sleep tonight."

"Neither is he," Vira laughed.

"I'm in hell, Vira," Nyota sighed. "I want him. Like, really want him. I did some research; Vulcans and humans have to use genetic engineering to create a child. But Spock's physiology is a little unpredictable, and I am _so_ not trying to get knocked up right now."

"True," Vira nodded, "but what I don't understand is why you two can't do, you know, _other_ stuff."

"Oh I plan to, but it won't help," her roommate shook her head. "I felt him _on_ me…his body pressed against mine. That didn't make the ache go away, you know? It just made me want more. Spock and I can make out and 'do stuff' until the sonic distortions come home, but in the end, we'll both be aching and longing for that one thing—"

"When Hikaru and I made out, it wasn't so hot," Vira said suddenly, a quizzical look on her face. She cocked her head to the side, as though trying to figure it out.

Nyota's head snapped towards her roommate. "You did _what?_"

"Made out with Hikaru," Vira repeated simply, as through reciting a mathematical equation. "It was strictly an errand of mercy which lasted approximately fifty-eight minutes, but after the fourth minute or so, everything was feeling so redundant."

"That sounds awful."

"Not awful," Vira shook her head, "just _boring_. Hikaru didn't say anything, but the different in body temperature was a bit of a shock to him too. He probably had to imagine himself in the middle of a blistering desert just to get through."

"Vira, isn't there something you can do about your whole 'freezing body' issue?"

Vira sighed. "'Tis a peculiarity of the Trill." She shrugged. "It's who we are."

"What a shame," Nyota blinked. "He's, like, _really_ hot." How could have not enjoyed kissing _Hikaru?_

"True," the Trill nodded. "But I guess it just wasn't in the stars."

A padd beeped and Vira checked it.

"It's Hikaru," she sighed, even as she typed her reply. "He wants me to help him tomorrow night in Botany Bay 6. Something about needing help breeding a plant."

Nyota sat up at once.

"Maybe that's not all he wants. Maybe…."

Vira looked at her. "I don't think he wants anything else, Ny. This afternoon was pretty…awkward."

"Was it more awkward than blubbering like an idiot child during a Vulcan opera?" came the pointed reply.

Vira chuckled. "I see your point."

"Just remember, V," Nyota began very carefully, "when you're working with on him this project, you might not want to…show off."

The Trill merely raised an eyebrow, causing Nyota to shudder at what she had to say next.

"Vira, you're brilliant. You know that, and every teacher at this school knows that, but…," she struggled, wincing, "Hikaru doesn't need to be reminded repeatedly, if you catch my drift."

"You want me to 'dumb myself down'?"

"No, no!" Nyota shook her head. "It's just that…human boys are really sensitive, and not just when they're teenagers—that goes on until death. They don't like it when a girl can do what they like to do better than." It had occurred to her the day before that perhaps Vira and Spock hadn't worked out for this particular reason. Spock's Vulcan half may have appreciated a more highly developed intellect than his own, but his human half could not abide it.

"You analyze Vulcan Literature better than Spock and yet he remains draw to you."

"Yes, but Spock is a _scientist_, not a literary expert. My excelling at something he doesn't care about is no biggie to him. But Hikaru is a scientist, just as you are, and plants are kind of his specialty."

"Ah," Vira's head rose and fell. "So tomorrow, when I go to meet with him…."

"Don't laugh when he messes up, give suggestions only when you're asked for them, don't nitpick his work, and remember that every so often it is perfectly okay to honestly answer a question with 'I don't know' rather than 'Betcha I can find out before _you_ do.' Work with him, Vira, not against him."

"Check," the Trill replied, mulling over these suggestions. "But what if I do all that and he still doesn't want to make out with me?"

"If I know Hikaru," Nyota chuckled, "then overnight you'll find you went from being the dreaded know-it-all to that really cool girl who nicely helped him out."


	15. Chapter 15

**N'Tal***

(*pronounced Nuh-tall)

"Class," Professor Vladimir grandly greeted them, "today I need a volunteer to read ze _Song of T'Lao_. Any volunteers?"

Nyota eagerly raised her hand. She hadn't ever read much of Slaris of Vulcan before, but she'd decided she liked him a lot. Slaris was already an old, graying man when he wrote the _Song of T'Lao_, some seven hundred years after the death of Surak. Slaris's written tone reflected his age; she imagined him to be a kindly and gentle man.

"Miss Uhura, proceed."

Nyota started reading aloud with a joyous song in her heart.

"I sing of T'Lao

Beauteous queen and consort to Goval

His Majesty of the South

Her hair and eyes, like starless night

Though her body ever ailing

—And never a courtier knowing why

"Cup to cup, Their Majesties sat

Enthroned and enchanted by minstrels a hundred

None but Goval poured his queen's tea at sunset

None but Goval served her _plomeek_ at dawn

None but Goval sat by her death-bed, lyre in hand

Singing heart-killing songs of good-bye

"Indeed, His Majesty played

Accompanied by a tender maiden's hands

Shir'kanna, the ancients named the maid

Whose sweet voice was a hallowed dirge

Filling T'Lao's royal chamber

Draped in new gowns, the maiden sang

"Ah, love betrayed!

Such sorrow unrivaled

Such beauty and grace unavenged

Tender T'Lao, sickly and dying

With none but her husband

Keeping all else at bay."

Nyota sat back, grinning. This poem was cake; did they even need to analyze this one? "He poisoned her, didn't he?" she grinned to Professor Vladimir. "Goval was poisoning his wife and no one figured it out."

"For several months at the beginning of their marriage," another student piped up, "King Goval showed his wife some overly romantic gestures, letting no one but himself pour her drinks and serve her morning soup."

"It puzzled but endeared him to everyone, so no one realized he was slipping her poison," someone pointed out.

"T'Lao was the only queen in Vulcan history to be assassinated in this manner," Spock pondered aloud, turning all heads towards him. "There has been much doubt as to whether or not it was truly Goval."

Nyota's head snapped towards her boyfriend (_I can call him that now!_), appalled into speechless. The poem barely needed analysis and _the only Vulcan_ in the class was entertaining a notion of doubt?

That wasn't like him. Granted, what he was saying had fair measure of logic to it but still…it was like hearing a Vulcan postulate that one plus one could possibly, maybe, in some alternate reality, equal three.

"Are you all right?" Nyota asked hesitantly over lunch with Spock (_I get to do that now!_). "You didn't seem like yourself in Vulcan Lit today."

Spock actually sighed. "T'Lao died a full century before the birth of Surak. Her death is infamous amongst historians. However, there is no _fact_ behind her death, only speculation."

Nyota laughed. "Spock, what Vulcan king would actually serve his lady in that matter?"

He looked her directly in the eyes. "A man who loved his wife."

_Oh_. Nyota's thighs clenched together. The way he said it, the intense manner in which he said it…it didn't help that she had real memories now of what it was like to have him kiss with almost violent passion.

"Still," she murmured, flustered, "no one else was handling her food and drink but her husband."

"That's not entirely accurate," Spock countered. In the High Vulcan he recited, "_None but Goval poured his queen's tea at sunset/None but Goval served her plomeek at dawn_." He switched back to English, stating, "He served her two things, tea and soup at two precise times of day. What about lunch? What about her dinner? Not to mention, Goval did not prepare these things, he merely served them. Seen in that light, anyone could have poisoned T'Lao. His constant isolation of her may have been an attempt to stop the poisoning. And history records that after the death of T'Lao, Goval never took another wife."

Nyota had already stopped listening at the High Vulcan. Spock's voice, so low and strong, made his people's poetry sound all the more spellbinding. He recited it simply, like a child reciting the alphabet, completely unaware of its power. And he maintained unflinching eye contact the whole while.

"Speaking of men serving women," he raised an eyebrow, "may I get you another cup of tea?"

_**Oh**_.

Nyota mutely nodded, but before he could rise from his chair, she placed a hand on his knee, and leaned in.

"So, yeah," she said lowly, so only he would hear, "I'm going to have to come to your room tonight."

After their 1500 classes, Hikaru met with Vira in Botany Bay 6. He arrived a few moments earlier to water his Andorian dream leaves. When she got there, he smiled kindly.

"Thanks for agreeing to help me with this," he began with rehearsed courtesy. "I couldn't have done this without you."

Vira's face actually heated as she shyly lowered her eyes. "Thanks," she simply, rather than, "_I know_."

"I need your help cultivating a _rak'charan_," he began. "It's strictly for experimental purposes only. I want to see if I can breed a smaller, less toxic version. I understand it will take time and complex engineering, but—"

"Actually, it won't take time at all," Vira interrupted him. "The _rak'charan_ is a desert plant, and fiercely so. It strives mostly on sunshine, and the cilliodioxin builds up in the roots merely as a response to water shortage. It may take some time to get a sample of the plant, but after that all we have to do is water it heavily, prune it daily, and drastically minimize its exposure to solar energy, authentic or synthesized. After we start growing it, it'll take what…two, maybe three weeks to reach maturity?"

Hikaru's mouth fell open as he stared at her for several very long moments.

_Uh oh_. Vira mentally winced. _Me and my big mouth, shooting off again_. She sighed. _I'm never going to have a boyfriend at this school_.

"Vira," Hikaru gasped, "you are, like, ridiculously brilliant."

Then again…maybe….

"I would've never guessed cilliodioxin build up was a simply response to a lack of water," Hikaru blinked.

_That's because you don't have an extensive experience with xenobotany_, Vira wanted to say. _You're human, and if it doesn't look like what you know or doesn't cause intoxication, you don't want anything to do with it_.

_Wow_, Vira flinched_. I really am an arrogant bitch, aren't I?_ She paused in her racing thought for a split second before deciding, _Well…good to know_.

"Oh," she mumbled instead, "you would've figured it out anyway. You're really smart, Hikaru. I know people tend to focus on your rule-breaking side, but the truth is, the stuff you pull off takes serious genius, and I don't think people understand that."

"The stuff I pull off?" he asked.

"Your name comes up in the school misdemeanor logs forty-two times," she giggled. "And that's just since August."

Hikaru blushed. "Well, you know me," he lowered his eyes. "I try."

"The stint with the shuttle was brilliant," Vira admitted, her eyes bright with glee. "You hijacked a school shuttled and evaded capture for six hours. That's like…poetry."

"Well," Hikaru drawled. "I jammed all ship sensors within a three hundred mile radius. Scotty taught me that."

"And the stunt with holodeck 16?" Vira laughed.

"Hey now," Hikaru blinked innocently, "porn in 3-D is the _only_ way to fly."

"What about Hodges Hall and the airborne aphrodisiac?" Vira feigned an accusatory tone. "The staff had to pry apart twenty half-naked students because you nearly caused an orgy."

Hikaru scratched the back of his head. "Lenny called Spock a 'green-blooded hobgoblin.'" Shrug. "I couldn't just let that fly."

Vira laughed loudly, genuinely. She'd never had a conversation like this with Hikaru before and she was enjoying it immensely. Perhaps Nyota was right; maybe something could happen here.

"Vira," he said suddenly, "Thanks so much. Since you solved my mystery in like, three seconds flat, I can now prep for the headmistress's assignment."

The Trill frowned slightly. "The headmistress gave you an assignment?"

He nodded. "Stellar Valley is getting a new student tomorrow. Some kid named N'Tal is being assigned to Hodges House and _I_ have to do the whole tour bit. I have to learn all their classes, the location of their dorm, talk their teachers, blah blah blah…."

"Oh," Vira said, her disappointment showing. "I was hoping we could do dinner later."

"We still could," he assured her. "I've been craving onion rings, and Spock can't stand the smell of them. And something tells me I don't want to go back to my dorm _too_ early, if you catch my drift. Mess at all at 1800?"

The Trill glowed. "See you there."

"I fail to understand why we are both here, considering what happened the last time I attempted to…," Spock trailed off, unsure of how to finish. He sat on his bed stiffly, staring ahead at Hikaru's empty side of the room, unwilling to look at Nyota. He want to be alone with her right now, not if at the end of the evening he was going to have to hear the word no.

His girlfriend smiled lightly at him, saying, "I get that we can't do all the things we want to right now, but there are other ways to experience pleasure."

The Vulcan was skeptical. "Will we achieve the plateau phase of the sexual response cycle?" he inquired stubbornly.

Nyota allowed a small laugh. "Sweetie, yes. There is more than one way to do that. For example, you've been…self-soothing often, right?"

He nodded. "Whenever I have a moment to myself." He turned to meet her gaze. "I think of you so much, Nyota. Sometimes self-soothing takes hours."

_Ain't nothin' wrong with that!_

"Good, good," Nyota nodded, her breathing and heart rate increasing at once. "Hours are always good. Spock, do you ever wish that instead of having to use your hand to…self-soothe…you could use mine?"

The Vulcan's eyes widened in wonder. He had, in fact, thought about this often. "You mean…you're suggesting…."

She trailed a finger slowly from his knee up his thigh, to the buttons of the slacks.

"Tell me when," she murmured.

Spock shifted, trying to control his breathing, his eyes become heavy lidded before he rasped thickly, "Now."

She unbuttoned and unzipped him, and plunged her hand inside without thinking. Now was not a time to think; if she thought, she would hesitate, and if she hesitated, she would panic.

Now was _not_ the time to panic.

She found flesh, smooth, impressively built, searing flesh. Her cool fingers against his burning skin ripped a gasp from him. His hands braced against the bed as his head and eyes rolled back. Nyota began to move her hand, slowly at first, wanting to make sure her fingers didn't miss anything.

_Don't think, don't think, don't think_.

"Nyota…." He didn't say her name, he breathed it. Of its own will her hand picked up speed. His flingers clutched the bedspread, and he bit his bottom lip in an attempt to bite back the noise.

Elation filled Nyota; _she_ was the one doing this for him. _She_ was the one he thought of when he did this for himself.

_God…I could do this forever!_

As it turned out, "forever" apparently lasted about ten seconds shy of two minutes.

Spock exploded with a deep growl; and scalding hot fluid squirted out over her fingers.

As he lay back on his bed in blissful relief, Nyota blinked for a moment. It was as though she'd been watching a movie, and then missed a crucial element.

_I'm sorry_, a mocking voice in her head piped up. _Did I miss something?_

"Nyota," he murmured dreamily, "you are amazing."

_And you are…quick_.

"That was wondrous."

_That was quick_.

"We must do that again."

_Will it be quick?_

"But I am not sure we have time. Hikaru should be returning soon."

_Then we better make it quick_.

"I see," Nyota finally brought herself to say. She reached for some Kleenex on a nearby stand and hastily rubbed her fingers clean. The sardonic voice in her head would not go quietly. _Um, explain to me how he does this for_ hours _again?_ "And uh," she asked, eager to think about anything but sex right now, "does his early return have to do with that N'Tal kid who starts here tomorrow?"

Spock sat up abruptly, the haze and gleam gone from his eyes. "What did you just say?"

"Hikaru," she attempted to clarify, "is escorting the new kid around school early tomorrow, isn't he? He has to get up early and show them around, right?"

"N'Tal," Spock repeated, eyes clear and voice very, very strong, forceful even. "Did you say the student's name was N'Tal?"

"Yes," Nyota frowned, despite her mild amusement. "What's the big deal? Do you know who's starting here tomorrow? Is it another Vulcan student?"

"No," Spock replied tersely. "N'Tal is a Romulan name."


	16. Chapter 16

**Bitten**

Hikaru Sulu prided himself on being able to think on his feet. It was how he functioned; it was how he survived. Sure, he was a bit of a nerd, and yes, he could be ornery and underhanded, but these traits worked well together because there was a third part of his brain which always knew what to think.

Except now.

The new student was indeed a Romulan. Feral-eyed, with long, wild black hair with pointed ears poking through, and deep, rich olive skin glowing in the light of early morning, N'Tal was one of the most striking girls Hikaru had ever seen.

"Striking" being the operative word here.

Awkwardly clad in her white uniform blouse and her black and plaid skirt, she scowled deeply at him as he approached her in the promenade, no doubt under the watchful eyes of Jim and Lenny.

"Let me guess," she hissed at him, before he could even say hello, "_you_ are the spineless, weakling _veruul_ sent to educate me about this human-infested _Areinnye_."

It was like being hit with a sudden fever.

N'Tal wasn't using the universal translator; she spoke English fluently but with a thick, beautiful accent in which she heavily rolled her Rs and tauntingly rasped her Ss. Each syllable rolled over him like a wave of danger, and her lashing comment instantly turned him on.

For several seconds, Hikaru simply gawked at her, unable to process anything past her face, with its beautiful full lips, dangerous dark green eyes, and daintily tattooed brow.

"Well?" she snapped, trying wake him from his stupor. "What is it?"

"You are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen," he answered honestly, without thinking. He was awash with awe and heat, so much he didn't even blush at his own confession. He couldn't even blink, as though his eyes feared missing anything in the absence of sight.

N'Tal turned an ever deeper shade of green, whether from anger or from embarrassment. She averted her gaze, even as her breathing remained fast and her hands clenched and unclenched repeatedly by her side.

"You're just saying that," she ground out finally.

"No," he shook his head slowly, still not taking his eyes off her. "I'm not…I mean I've never…."

"You've never seen one like me before," she finished sarcastically.

"I have," he nodded quickly, finally blinking and trying to recover his usually rapid wits. "My roommate is from Vulcan."

"_Eneh hwau' kllhwnia na imirrhlhhse!_" N'Tal spat harshly. "You _dare!_ Do you even know what a Vulcan is? A Vulcan merely the result of a Romulan cutting off his own _balls!_ Now are you going to start this tour or not, you miserable _kllhe_?"

Torn between aroused shock and the morbid urge to laugh, Hikaru merely nodded quickly and gestured for her to follow him. He tried to explain things quickly and concisely as they walked.

"You've been placed in Hodges House; it's the place for highly analytical-minded students. It's my house, actually," he chuckled nervously, "and our house color is blue."

"Whatever," she growled.

"Um, okay…," Hikaru swallowed nervously. "Um, I understand that engineering is your specialty, so most of your classes will be in the engineering labs. Your first class today is at 0900—Warp Theory 204. Most students find it very challenging; I'm sure you'll enjoy it."

"Please," she snorted. "I could probably _teach_ the class."

"Ooookay," Hikaru nodded, growing anxious. "Your next class after this is Quantum Physics at 1030 hours." Terrified pause. "Would you like to have lunch with me at 1230 hours? _Viinerine_ is on the menu today. Your profile says it's your favorite."

"My profile says many things," N'Tal rolled her eyes. The gesture made his chest and stomach tighten the way they hadn't in a long time. He couldn't even _remember_ the name of the last girl who made him feel like this.

"Yes, it does," he replied thickly. "I read that your favorite thing to do is to travel to Kalas Moon in the Kinntar Sector. This weekend, I have two hours of holodeck time reserved. I can recreate Kalas Moon."

"And can you recreate the midnight breeze?" she snorted. "Can you duplicate the barren green and black valley of rocks? Will I smell the desert blossoms?"

"If it will please you."

She stopped walking and turned to face him, almost as if in challenge. The moment those dark emerald eyes looked into his, Hikaru felt his whole body go weak. His heart wasn't smitten; it was _bitten_ by that brazen, unflinching gaze.

"You seem to be trying very hard to please me, _kllhe_," she mused. "Are all humans so eager to please?"

"Um, no," he replied honestly. "That was the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. See, we're pretty much trapped out here in the mountains, and so the kids tend to get bored quickly. So, over the next few weeks you may notice people staring and whispering about you…_a lot_."

"Because I'm a Romulan," she smirked.

"No, because you're new," he clarified. "Humans aren't the only kids who go here. We have all kinds of non-human students—Federation and beyond—attending Stellar Valley."

"How quaint," N'Tal snorted. "But I remain unimpressed. The _Lloann'na_ is infamous for breeding weaklings."

Hikaru began to rack his brain. Her hotness was undeniable, and once the other kids got past the whole "Romulan" thing, they'd be all over her. He couldn't have that. He couldn't have her looking him the way she was now from someone else's arm—it would kill him.

"What will please, N'Tal?" he asked her finally. "What I can bring you to make you happy?"

She snickered. "Give me a shuttle and a quick way _off_ this planet. I have no desire to be a skirt-wearing, study hall-attending, mindless, dithering _th'ann_."

Hikaru simply blinked at. Note to self: look over your Intro to Romulan notes ASAP.

"I thought you were having lunch with Hikaru?" Nyota asked her friend. "Where is he?"

"Still giving the new kid a tour," Vira shrugged. "But it's cool; we're meeting you and Spock for dinner later. Last night, we had a wonderful talk over dinner, and it didn't involve science at all!"

Nyota smiled brightly for her friend, taking a seat next to her. As soon as she was seated, her smile immediately faded.

"I'm glad you had a good night. Because last night," she said very lowly, so only her friend could hear, "Spock and I tried to do stuff, and um, he finished…like, quickly."

Vira's eyes went wide. "No," she gasped.

Nyota nodded, clearly horrified. "If Vulcans have superior strength and all, should their stamina be better too?"

Vira tried very hard not to laugh; her roommate looked genuinely pained about this. "He's still young, Nyota, and this whole 'sexual activity' stuff is fairly new."

"But he says he masturbates all the time!" Nyota rasped. "Shouldn't he, like, know how to delay…stuff by now?"

Vira shrugged, nodding from side to side as if weighing things. "could be, could be. But Nyota, when you're self-soothing, do _you_ drag it out?"

Heated, Nyota looked away. "Not funny, V," she grumbled. "This sucks! And after he finished, I had to leave ASAP because Hikaru was due back soon. It's going to be a while before we can have some real alone time and, goddamn it, I'm hungry!"

Vira had to work very hard to say the next words with a straight face. "You know, you could always replicate, like, a cucumber or something to tie you over."

The look Nyota shot was enough to make the Trill's body temperature skyrocket. The spotted beauty doubled over laughing, drawing looks from neighboring tables.

"…this is Engineering Lab 9 and this is my roommate," Hikaru introduced N'Tal. "Spock, this is N'Tal. You have warp theory together. If you have dinner with us later, you can meet his girlfriend Nyota."

"_Jolan tru_," Spock greeted with slight bow. Hikaru noticed his roommate was extra emotionless today, as though he'd spent the whole night meditating.

N'Tal didn't waste time with pleasantries. "_Vulcan_," she began in crisp Romulan, "_do you truly welcome me?_"

"_Be welcome, N'Tal_," Spock assured her neutrally in flawless Romulan.

"_Your 'girlfriend,'_" she chuckled, "_is human, yes?_"

"_Yes, she is,_" Spock replied, though he could not see what business it was of hers.

"_Vulcans_," she sneered. "_Traitors of the blood, supping and sleeping with the swine of the galaxy_."

"_You may count yourself amongst traitors, daughter of Mioral,_" the Vulcan replied dryly. "_Your father defied the Empire, did he not? 'Twas Vulcans who delivered him from execution, was it not? You are at a human school now, are you not?_"

"_Vulcan logic,_" N'Tal snarled. Hikaru honestly didn't know what they were saying, but since N'Tal looked like she wanted to rip out his roommate's throat, he guessed it wasn't pleasant. "_Twisted in whichever way the speaker chooses. All of you logicians lie to yourselves. You have a human girlfriend, but at seven a _hru'fir_ was given to you, was she not?_"

"Yes," Spock said, switching fluidly back to English, "but as my mother is human, her family will no doubt break that promise as soon as possible."

At his admission, N'Tal's eyes widened. She even took a step back, as though Spock were some sort of evil being.

"_You_," she rasped, stubbornly sticking to her native tonge. "_You are the abomination they speak of…spawn of Sarek, the one who married a—_"

"Careful, Romulan," Spock cut in suddenly, his eyes and voice like iron. "The last time a person spoke ill of my mother, the cleaning staff spent the entire evening trying to get his blood out of the carpet."

"Spock!" Hikaru exclaimed.

"_I must remind you_," N'Tal said slyly, not even remotely threatened, "_you are amongst _their_ kind now._" She gave a disdainful nod towards Hikaru."_They frown upon males hitting females, even if the two warriors matched_."

Spock switched back to Romulan, not wanting to anger his roommate further. "_And I will remind _you_ that you are no longer among friends. Your precious Empire betrayed and slaughtered many, some whose descendants attend this school. It would be logical to consider that before you take this tone with someone else_." And without further ado, the Vulcan sauntered off.

"What was that all about?" Hikaru demanded, flabbergasted.

"Nothing," N'Tal hissed. "Your roommate is a handsome one…for one of mixed blood."

"Yeah, girls like him a lot."

This surprised her. "Even though he is different?"

"He's not the only non-human here; I told you."

"That's not what I meant," N'Tal growled. "He is different. He is unfeeling, impassive, and without fire."

"According to his girlfriend, he has plenty of fire," Hikaru chuckled.

"Perhaps," N'Tal grumbled, "for a _human_. I doubt your roommate could withstand a woman of the blood." She paused, watching Spock carefully as he set up at a different workstation. "I look forward to speaking with him again."

Hikaru was uncomfortable. This wasn't why he'd introduced Spock to her. He understood why she'd be…intrigued by a fellow pointy-eared bearer, but no good could come from this.

_Nyota is going to_ kill _me_.

The Romulans words are from an online Romulan to English dictionary.

_Veruul_ is an insult meaning "fool", much like the Klingon _p'tak_.

_Areinnye_ is the Romulan version of Hell.

_Kllhe_ means "worm."

_Eneh hwau' kllhwnia na imirrhlhhse_ is a long-winded obscenity that wasn't translated.

_Lloann'na_ is "Federation."

_Th'ann_ is "prisoner."


	17. Chapter 17

**The Eris Effect**

Dinner arrived and the girls primped for the mess hall. Excitedly, they applied each other's makeup and giggled about the boys they liked. As 1830 hours drew close, Nyota smiled brightly at her friend and said, "I have a surprise for you." She went over to her bed and reached under her pillow to retrieve a gift she had replicated earlier that day.

"I think this would look really good on you," she said, clasping it around her roommate's neck. "The necklace is made from ivory—replicated of course, but the stones are real tanzanite. You know, to match your hair. And the ivory really brings out the golden brown in your skin."

"Thanks, Ny!" the Trill exclaimed. "I actually have a present for you too!" She went to _her_ bed and reached under _her_ pillow to retrieve a small bottle of amber liquid. Before Nyota could speak, Vira began to spritz it all over. It smelled faintly of flower and desert.

"I know you've missed wearing perfume since you started going with Vulcan," she grinned, "so I did some research. Spock was born in the city of Shi'Kahr. This is derived from one of the more prominent flowering plants in that entire region. This way, whenever he smells you, he'll feel at home."

Nyota was deeply touched. Vira's ingenious nature once again endeared her to Nyota, who was beginning to think maybe Vira's isolation wasn't entirely her fault.

"Thanks, V," she said softly, and the girls hugged.

"So, shall we go?" Nyota suggested, eyes twinkling with mischief.

"I suppose," Vira sighed, linking arms with her roommate. "The boys _are_ waiting."

Vira was only _partially_ correct, of course.

The boys were waiting; however…they weren't waiting alone.

Spock sat stiffly apart from his roommate and the Romulan girl next to him. She had changed out of her uniform and was wearing a long sleeveless dress of peach and dark brown swirl. Her hair hung long and free, flowing wildly about her shoulders.

In short, she looked gorgeous.

The Buskirk girls approached the table slowly, with confused caution. While Vira merely stared at the new addition, Nyota offered a halting greeting. "You…must be N'Tal?"

The Romulan raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. Her voice was clipped when she spoke. "You are correct. I am daughter of Ambassador Mioral of Romulus."

In awkward, hesitant silence, the girls sat down. Nyota sat between Vira and Spock, while N'Tal sat between Vira and Hikaru.

Hikaru was looking quite cheerful; he kept looking back and forth between his friends and N'Tal like an eager puppy. "I showed N'Tal around school all day," he grinned broadly.

"So…you, like, didn't go to class at all?" Nyota asked stupidly. Then again, at least she was talking. Spock had mysteriously retreated into himself and Vira had been rendered mute.

"Headmistress waives classes whenever a new student arrives and you give them the tour," Hikaru answered cheerfully.

Nyota frowned slightly. "They didn't for me."

Hikaru tipped his head to the side. "You arrived on a Saturday, Ny."

"Oh…right."

Silence reigned uncomfortably for several seconds, until Spock finally rose and looked down at Nyota. "May I acquire anything for you ladies?" he asked. "Red leaf tea is on the menu tonight."

"Double hot, triple sweet," Nyota replied. "Thanks, sweetie," she added quickly, just to put "everyone" on the "same page."

"Iced," Vira murmured softly, her eyes never leaving N'Tal. She was trying to figure out what was going on here. Was N'Tal strictly here as a "new girl" courtesy, or did that boyish sparkle in Hikaru's eyes mean something else?

"N'Tal," Hikaru said suddenly, following his roommate's lead and getting up, "may I get you something?"

Vira's heart sank. _I'm…gonna go with "else."_

She actually felt it plummet from her chest into her feet, leaving a painful, gaping hole in its wake.

But the agony did not end there. As Hikaru dutifully went off to fetch N'Tal a drink, Vira suddenly realized that any minute now, she was going to be sitting with two couples: Nyota with her Vulcan and Hikaru with his brand spanking new Romulan, while the Trill was left out in the cold.*

Vira Zwan shuddered, rising to her feet. She whispered to her roommate, "I'll be right back," and took off before Nyota could stop her.

_So_, Nyota thought grimly hesitantly turning her head to face N'Tal, _and then there were two_.

"You are the Vulcan's girlfriend," N'Tal said suddenly. Her gaze was razor sharp; Nyota could practically feel claws on her flesh as the Romulan's eyes raked her over. "For how long?"

"Almost two weeks," Nyota answered, keeping her voice light. Why was she asking this? What did it matter to her?

"Vulcans are a unique species, are they not?" N'Tal asked.

"Yes." The hell else was she supposed to say?

"We were once like Vulcans," N'Tal cocked her head to side. "But when the wars ended, and new philosophy was born, we rebelled and left for a new world."

_Ooooookay…and I should care about this because…???_

"Spock has no doubt told you the story."

"No," Nyota shook her head. "Actually he hasn't. We've done mostly Vulcan things: opera, literature, and such."

N'Tal raised an eyebrow. "You must find it boring."

"Actually," Nyota countered yet again, "I find Vulcan art and music quite moving."

The Romulan snorted, "That's hard to believe. Most humans snore through all things Vulcan. Romulans do too."

Nyota blinked, unsure of what to say other than, "I see."

"How do you feel about the _hru'fir_ he has waiting for him at home? Do you think he will ever mate with her?"

Nyota's mouth fell open in pure shock. Before she could even think of a reply, the boys returned. Spock glanced around for Vira. When he did not see her anywhere in the mess hall, he merely deduced the logical and sat down.

Much to Nyota's distaste, Hikaru didn't even seem to notice Vira had left. He instead pushed his seat nearer to N'Tal, as though preparing to hang on her every word.

"So, N'Tal," he asked eagerly, "what exactly brings you to Stellar Valley?"

"My father is seeking asylum from the Romulan government," she told him flatly. "While on a diplomatic mission to Vulcan, he openly denounced its fascist nature and was branded a traitor. I was sent here for my own safety, while my father attempts to continue his work on Vulcan."

Nyota asked without thinking, "Do you think you'll eventually be joining him on Vulcan?" Spock twitched next to her, and Hikaru flashed her a look, but Nyota quickly realized she didn't care. Somewhere, her roommate was probably in tears because of this girl.

N'Tal met her gaze levelly. "No. I actually started to attend the Shi'Kahr Science Academy but I had trouble…fitting in."

Nyota raised an eyebrow and spoke _again_ without thinking. Her words betrayed her disbelief. "And your father thought a Federation school would suit you better?"

_Again_, the Romulan wasn't even fazed. "As we discussed earlier, Nyota, Vulcans are a unique species. We may look like them, but their culture is far more repressed than ours."

"An ironic statement, considering you just mentioned Romulus is run by fascists," Nyota pointed out.

"True," N'Tal replied, and this time she smirked, "but while our laws are repressive, our _culture_ is not. Romulans treasure emotion; it is the fire from which we forged our Empire."

"Sounds like you do not share your father's thoughts on the Empire," Nyota raised her eyebrow.

"On the contrary, I agree whole-heartedly with my father's thoughts," N'Tal shrugged. "Romulan government _is_ repressive; it puts a clamp upon our rich and ancient culture. And if it is allowed to continue as it has, we could all end up like androids, or even worse, Vulcans." She looked directly into Spock's eyes, as if in challenge.

Spock gave her look as if to say, _You could only be so lucky_; but maintained his stubborn silence.

And Nyota finally noticed that. There was a definite discomfort between these two, and she wanted to know exactly what it was. Did she hit on him? Did he flat out reject her?

"What do _you_ think, sweetie?" she asked Spock pointedly, determined to draw the words kicking and screaming from him if necessary. He looked momentarily startled, before he slowly gave his reply.

"I admire Ambassador Mioral's work," he stated vaguely. "My father considers him a colleague. He says Mioral was a great asset to the Empire."

"My father admires your father as well," N'Tal said suddenly, locking her eyes on Spock. "His taste in women notwithstanding."

The Vulcan twitched, and realization dawned on Nyota at once. _So _that's_ it_, she thought. _N'Tal said something about his mother; she probably said something about him being mixed as well_.

"My father's taste in women has never impeded his work, which is perhaps why he's never had to flee an execution," Spock replied crisply, rising to his feet. "If you will excuse me."

Nyota was _not_ about to be left alone with these two. She stood up quickly too, nodding quickly, "It was a pleasure," before darting after Spock.

Hikaru, on the other hand, glowed at the thought of finally being alone with N'Tal.

_Two and a half minutes. Wow…we're breaking records now?_

Nyota awkwardly lay down next to her boyfriend, who blissfully sighed at his dorm room ceiling. Reaching for the trusty Kleenex, she carefully blotted her lips.

_I should've known that would be too much for him_. Nyota sighed aloud. _At least it wasn't long enough for me to get rug burn. _That_ would suck_.

"Nyota," he murmured, "that was wonderful."

"I figured as much," she said. After this second disappointment, she found all her sexual urges miraculously shelved for the night. Once she realized she didn't want to start anything else, she turned the topic to something nonsexual. "You think Hikaru's going to be back soon?"

"Doubtful," Spock shook his head. "He is infatuated with _N'Tal_." That last word came out dripping with bile, and not all the Vulcan-ness in the 'verse could dilute it.

"Yeah, what's up with that? I didn't think she was his type."

"Nor I, but apparently she is and I now have to tolerate it."

"So," Nyota snickered, "you're saying you can't stand your roommate's new girlfriend?"

"Affirmative."

"That's so _human!_"

"True," he accepted easily. Must've been the orgasm; normally he wouldn't have accepted that so easily.

"I feel bad for Vira," Nyota said suddenly, snuggling into the crook of her warm Vulcan's arm. "She was so excited about seeing him tonight."

"I am not worried about this…fascination Hikaru has with N'Tal," the Vulcan yawned. "She does not reciprocate his affection. She is fickle and impulsive, discourteous and uncivilized."

Nyota smirked. "So basically…you think she's a bitch?"

"If you must."

Nyota laughed, charmed by her Vulcan. And the more charmed she felt, the more turned on she got.

_Let's see if we can make to three minutes, shall we?_

*Pun intended.


	18. Chapter 18

**Hru'Fir**

**Friday**

With N'Tal came the good and the bad. The whispers were directed towards her now, as where the looks in the mess hall. It was a great relief for Nyota not to have all the attention. When she ate meals with Spock or went to his dorm for a few pleasurable minutes, no one noticed. No whispered. They had N'Tal to whisper about now.

_She's a spy; I bet you she's a spy. She's going to soak up a bunch of Federation training and then take it back to Romulus._

_Her dad is totally playing the Federation. Romulans are too patriotic to defy the Empire._

_Is it just me or has Hikaru totally devolved into slave boy mode? I hear he carried her padds for her all day._

_Did you hear what N'Tal did in warp theory? She cursed out the professor when he corrected her algorithms and actually flung a model engine at his head._

_Did you hear what N'Tal did in Intro to Klingon History? She told the professor Klingons were dogs and said that, like humans, they're a complete waste of skin._

_Did you hear what N'Tal did? Did you hear what N'Tal said? _Everyone asked. Everyone wanted to know. By Friday night the Romulan was starring in every single rumor at Stellar Valley.

"So you going to Spock's room?" Vira asked, as Nyota sprayed on her flower and desert perfume.

"Yeah, but don't worry," Nyota snorted. "I'll be back in a minute."

The Trill laughed and Nyota was happy to hear it. Vira had been down the past day, and it pierced Nyota's heart. On the other hand, Vira had made some new friends last night, and ironically, it was because of her oversized brain. It had finally occurred to some students to that if you were cramming for an exam in a group, the smartest thing you could do was have Vira Zwan as your guest of honor.

"I have a study date with some kids from Holderby House," the Trill sighed. "Professor Matar's biochemistry has 'em all scared witless. Brianna's bringing Ktarian chocolate though."

"Glad to hear it, V," Nyota smiled at her. "Let me know if the boys in Holderby are cute."

"Say it, Spock. You don't like N'Tal."

"After witnessing her disgraceful behavior in two classes, I must question your logic in pursuing her as a girlfriend."

Hikaru Sulu snickered as he loosened his tie. "Ever the Vulcan. Which is precisely why you can't see what I see in N'Tal."

Spock raised an eyebrow as he straightened his tie. "All do respect, my friend, _no one_ can see what you see in N'Tal."

Hikaru laughed again, reaching to clap his roommate on the back. "She's so wild, Spock. So free."

"And extreme hateful towards humans."

It was Hikaru's turn to raise his eyebrow. "She likes me well enough."

"Likes you, perhaps, but I doubt it will be enough. N'Tal thinks of boys in terms of 'mates.' Can you comfortably state that she sees you as a potential mate?"

Hikaru laughed yet again. It was seriously starting to annoy the Vulcan.

"Bro," the human shook his head, "that's part of the attraction—there's a _challenge_. A human winning over the affections of a Romulan? Unheard of! Look, I gotta jet. N'Tal's stuck in detention tonight, and I promised to help sneak her out. I have to hack into the sensors and program them to think she's still in there. Later!" Hikaru called, before Spock could dissuade him.

He worried for his friend for a moment before his door beeped. Remembering his date with Nyota, Spock immediately forgot about his friends.

"_Slower_, sweetie," Nyota bit out, her impatience growing.

She didn't dare look him; she didn't want to see the predictably perplexed look on his face. His right hand was buried in her underwear, and though she hadn't needed to tell him what was where, he couldn't seem to remember to rub in _slow, deliberate circles_—no matter how often she reminded him every other minute.

"Apologies, Nyota," he nodded against her shoulder. "I'm afraid I got enthusiastic again."

She ground her teeth, trying to quell her growing irritation. _No_, she thought,_ you got bored_. _You want to get this over with so we can go back to focusing on you._

"Does soothing often take such…extra effort for you?' he asked mildly, confirming her thoughts. "I did not realize that females required such complex ministrations."

Nyota snatched his hand and pulled it from between her thighs. She then rose quickly and straightened her clothes.

"Spock," she began in a clipped voice, "these aren't 'complex ministrations'. These are slow. Deliberate. Circles."

"I see," he nodded, before gesturing for her to return to his bed. "Let me make another attempt."

"No, Spock!" she bellowed suddenly. "What the hell is it? You can reprogram environmental controls, rebuild model engines, rewire computers—why can't you use all that overdeveloped Vulcan brilliance to perform _slow, deliberate circles?_"

She stormed from his room before he could stop her. He followed her down the hall, where she impatiently waited for the turbolift.

"Nyota, please—"

His words only infuriated her further.

"_Do you know what semen tastes like?_" she snapped suddenly, not caring who heard or saw them (and there was some seeing and hearing). "Do you have _any_ clue what it's like to be on your knees, trying to breathe with your face buried in someone else's crotch?"

"Nyota—"

"A circle, Spock! A fucking circle! All I did was ask you to draw a circle—something you probably did when you were two—and that nine-digit IQ of yours went out the window! Well, fuck you!"

Mercifully, the doors opened, and Nyota flew into the turbolift.

Spock didn't dare follow her.

**Saturday**

He didn't send her a message the next morning either; he figured evening was a better time to replicate her favorite dessert and track her down to apologize. Instead, he went to his usual _Suus Mahna_ session in holodeck 8.

He entered and found his program already running, except it wasn't his program. The usual wooden temple and impassive-looking teacher were replaced by a gray weapons chamber with burning sconces lining the walls.

N'Tal was waiting for him, dressed in svelte dark red, with her hair bound in a chignon. She smelled of strongly some smoky perfume and was carrying two long, curving blades.

"You are no doubt skilled in hand-to-hand combat, and trained to disable your opponent as humanely as possible, but…." She tossed him a blade, which he easily caught. It was ancient and lightweight in design, but no less deadly. "How do you fare with a real weapon?"

"How did you override my allotted time?" Spock asked patiently, though his patience was running thin. "How did you even know about my schedule?"

"You're asking the wrong questions," N'Tal replied. The fire in her eyes actually dimmed some as she moved into an attack stance. Her right foot was _en pointe_, with both hands in front on different sections of her blade. "Like it or not, we be of one blood. We are both descended from the same warrior race. So the question is: are you human, Spock, or are you Vulcan?"

Before he could answer the question he'd been asked so many time, N'Tal lunged forward with lightening speed. Even as he deflected her first strike, it fleetingly occurred to him just has slow humans were. Her next strike nearly cut off his ear. Her third strike nicked his upper left arm, drawing dark green blood.

_Oh_. His heart rate immediately increased. He hadn't expected such…excitement.

"A Vulcan, I can respect," the Romulan rasped. "We battled you for one century, and you easily held your own. But a human—"

He had to bend all the way back to dodge the blow, otherwise she would have cut off his head.

"You mean, like Hikaru?" he hissed, his breath coming harsh. Already he was starting to break a sweat, and so was she. Their scents filled the chamber of weapons, and thickened the air.

"Hikaru's misguided affections serve my purpose," N'Tal replied. "When a warrior is alone, he must use all things to his advantage."

"I am not alone," Spock shook his head. How did she speak and fight so easily? She moved, ducked, spun, and wielded her blade as thought it were first nature. How long had she been practicing? At what age did her father first hand her a real blade?

"Oh, yes of course," she snickered, "you have your human girlfriend. Does you take you into her bed? Open her thighs for you? Does she stroke your ears and bite your flesh until her teeth draw blood?"

_**Oh**_. Spock didn't move quickly enough; she nicked his back, causing blood to ooze from a long, thin diagonal line.

_How unfair_, he thought irritably. _Her words are causing a...reaction_.  
"Or does she cry, 'No'?" N'Tal cackled. "Does she tell you to stop? Does she say what you want is wrong?"

"We are young," Spock countered, but his voice clearly lacked conviction. "It is too early for such behavior."

"_Human lies_," she spat. "There are warriors in the Empire the same age as we! Seventeen is a not a boy, but a man. Does your human even know how to properly please a man?"

He thought of Nyota's hands and mouth on him, pleasing and sating him. He thought of her patience, her diligence, her willingness to follow his urgings.

He suddenly was very annoyed with presence of N'Tal.

Instead of fighting defensively, he went on the offense, which took her by surprise. Following his instincts, he deftly handled the blade, deftly striking at her, using the momentum in every turn, until he finally drew blood, nicking the skin above her clavicle.

Rich green fluid dripped down between her heaving, sweating breasts, and despite himself, Spock had to admit it all smelled so good.

"You can smell me, can't you?" she said softly, relaxing her blade a bit. "Just as I can smell you. Your skin is heating, your heart is pounding, your blood is as green as mine. You are Vulcan, are you not?"

She really needed to quit talking. Her words were exciting a part of him he hadn't even noticed existed. He suddenly heard himself growling—really heard himself—for the first time. The deep, dangerous noise came through clenched teeth, and his fingers clasped the blade even tighter. He felt a sudden, almost irresistible urge to bury it in a chest or a skull.

He suddenly craved the feel of warm, sticky blood gushing out all over his hands.

_All this time, I thought it was the human in me that I had to watch for,_ he thought fleetingly_. When in truth, it_ was this.

_This_. That Vulcan core, that basic self which all his people battled all their lives. All his human hormones, all the lust they created were _nothing_ compared to _this_. He could hear footfalls in distant rooms and hallways. Spock could hear N'Tal's heart pounding, and smell every inch of her body.

Kurik's forbidden poems suddenly had new meaning.

"What about the Time?" N'Tal asked softly, almost teasing. "Have you told her about the Time? You are not too young; it is not far away. Do you think she could handle you like a proper _hru'fir_ when you are claiming that which belongs to you and no other man?" She dropped her blade, taking slow, tantalizing steps towards him, letting him soak up her scent. "Or," she murmured sensually, "will you choose someone who will match you in every way?"

She was very close now; he could feel her breath on his face. Her blood and sweat filled his nostrils, making his head swim as he worked to curb his growling and form coherent sentences.

"N'Tal," he rasped finally, "you are right. I have not told Nyota about the Time. I do not even know when it will come. And I do not know if she will be able to withstand me. I do not know whom I will choose." He leaned in to murmur softly in her ear, letting his breath caress her skin, letting his lips just barely brush her. "But I do know it will _never_ be you."

For the first time since he'd met N'Tal, Spock got see what she looked like off guard. She looked shocked and wounded, and was effectively rendered mute by his rejection. All that Romulan superiority and swagger ripped away to reveal just another awkward teenager.

"Congratulations," Spock snorted, allowing a twinge of sarcasm to sour his words, "you're one of us now."

He shoved her aside inconsiderately, heading out of the holodeck for Buskirk House.


	19. Chapter 19

**No Fury**

_(originally entitled The 'Rents)_

"And…why were you bleeding again?"

Spock paused for a moment, as though considering _not_ telling Nyota what happened in the holodeck. But then something instinctively told him it would go better for him if he were just honest with her.

Or at least…partially honest. Vulcans tended to handle complete honesty a bit better than humans.

So he told of how he went to his usual training session, only to find the Romulan waiting for him. He, ahem, _briefly_ described their fight, and skipped entirely over the Pon Farr conversation. He didn't want to keep her in the dark forever, but he didn't want to discuss that with N'Tal hanging over everyone's heads.

Oddly enough, his girlfriend remained calm. "I bet Hikaru helped her pull it off; it him written all over it," she reasoned. "He told her where and when you'd be training, and then hacked the system for her." Nyota chuckled. "He probably thought it would be funny."

It was astounding how humans could suddenly embrace logic when given disturbing news. Then again, she didn't know the whole story.

"Indeed he may have," the Vulcan nodded grimly. "I underestimate the thrall she has him under."

"That may not entirely be it," Nyota giggled. "I think some of it had to do with him wanting to irk you anyway. This _is_ Hikaru we're talking about."

"True," he nodded again. He rose from her bed, careful not to grimace when his wounds stung. "I should go to the Nurse's Station. I will have to be vague, however, about how came by these cuts."

Nyota nodded gravely, understanding immediately. "Drawing blood is against regulations."

He looked at her for a moment, as if wanting to say something, but instead he simply leaned into kiss her goodbye. Seconds after he left, her personal computer beeped. Apparently, her mother was calling.

"Nyota!" Bahati Uhura greeted her daughter cheerfully, her entire face glowing like a child's on Christmas Eve. "Darling, how's your new school? Is it everything we thought it would be? You look…well…you _look_…um…uh, d-darling? Why are you…topless?"

Panicking, Nyota snatched up a pillow to cover herself. After a split second, she realized how much worse that looked.

"Do you normally answer a call topless?"

"No, Ma."

"And isn't it the middle of the afternoon over there? Why aren't you up and dressed?"

"Ma—"

"I suppose it _is_ a Saturday. And you _are_ a teenager. But how will your roommate feel walking in suddenly and finding you topless?"

"Ma, Vira doesn't care. Our rooms aren't that big—sooner or later, we were bound to see…stuff."

"Vira?" Bahati beamed. "Is that your roommate's name? Oh, darling! What's she like? Where's she from? What's her major?"

"Uh…," Nyota trailed for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts. "Um, brainy, Trill, and…xenobiology?"

"Xenobiology?" Bahati clapped her hands excitedly. "And a Trill? Is she joined?"

"She's too young to be joined, Ma."

"Have you made any other interesting friends?"

"Well, there's Hikaru—he's my boyfriend's roommate—and then there's Jim, and Lenny—"

"_Your boyfriend?_"

_Oh—_so _close! Thought if I just squeezed it in there somewhere she wouldn't_ quite _catch it…_.

"Yeah, Ma. His name is Spock and—"

"Is your boyfriend the reason why you're topless? Aren't you two a bit a young to be getting topless?"

"Ma!"

"And what kind of name is Spock anyway? Is he another Trill?"

"He's a Vulcan, Ma."

Bahati's eyes grew impossibly wide. "A Vulcan? You're going out with a _Vulcan?_"

"Well, _half_-Vulcan, Ma. His mother's human."

"A hybrid?" Bahati frowned, as though trying to remember something. "I've only heard of one such case. You're not talking about _Sarek's_ son, are you?"

"Ma—"

"Do you have any idea who that boy is?" the older woman gasped. "Do you have any idea how important his father is to Federation?"

"_Ma_—"

"_Zuri! Kamaria!_" Bahati bellowed over her shoulder. "_Ny's hooked a rich alien boy!_"

"_**Ma!**_" Nyota barked. "We just started going out this week. It's not _serious_, okay?"

Bahati blinked, shocked at her daughter's outburst.

"Ny," she began softly, cautiously, "do Vulcans even know how to kiss?"

_This is serious_.

When he was at the Nurse's Station, Spock got a message that his father was hailing him. As soon as he was bandaged, the Vulcan hurried back to his dorm. As Spock opened up his personal computer and logged on to answer his father's hail, he pause to think of how the man _never_ called him while he was at school. As long as he did well and stayed out of trouble—all expected from a proper Vulcan youth—his father found it illogical to commune regularly with his son.

In seconds, a graying Vulcan graced his computer screen.

"Greetings, my son, in whom I'm well pleased."

_Greetings, Beelzebub_.

"Father," Spock nodded courteously.

"I trust that you are well?"

"Yes, Father."

"You are aware of the news from Romulus?

"Yes, Father."

"Ambassador Mioral is won the admiration of many here on Vulcan."

"Will he be extradited?"

"Unlikely," Sarek shook his head. "Unless it is the wish of Romulus to go to war with the Federation over one man. It is likely Mioral will be here on Vulcan for a long time."

Spock resisted a twitch. _Surak's ears!_

"Of course, the Ambassador's daughter is my concern at the moment. I understand you have met Miss N'Tal?"

"Yes, Father."

"She and her father have created an interesting proposition. Mioral has suggested we dissolve your bond with T'Pring's family and create one with Mioral's instead."

_That fucking bitch_. Spock hadn't known such rage since a boy at his old school called his mother "the human whore."

How many times did N'Tal have to hear the word no? Did the Romulan thrive on rejection? Was she plagued with Jim Kirk Syndrome? And what gave her the right to get both their fathers involved in her little crush?

Despite all his Vulcan discipline, Spock felt his ears turn a dark, poisonous shade of green. The only other time they ever did that was when he tried steak for his first and only time.

"You intend that I should…_mate_ with N'Tal?" That last part came out a bit clipped, but Spock didn't care.

"It is a logical match."

_You evil, sadistic, old bastard!_

"I fail to see the logic in such a match, Father."

"A marriage between the son of a Vulcan Ambassador and the daughter of a Romulan Ambassador will send a message to the Empire, Spock." Sarek said with the faintest surprise, as though he figured Spock should've already known this.

_Well, excuuuuuuuse me!_

"Forgive me, Father," Spock began very carefully. "But Mioral is no longer an Ambassador. He is considered a traitor to the Empire. Also, I am half-human and carry little significance in Vulcan politics." Pause. "I…am no one, Father."

"You are my son." Despite his calm, neutral voice, Sarek was clearly offended, there was grim note in his voice. "You are a true child of the Federation, a blending of bloodlines and a living example of interspecial cooperation. And Mioral, though stripped of his rank and privileges, is an honorable man with a vast following in the Empire, from military commanders to university chancellors to activists in the Romulan dissident movement. Again, your marriage to his daughter could create great changes in the Empire."

_You. Ancient. Evil. Bastard_.

"Forgive me, Father, but I disagree." Spock paused, as if bracing himself. He'd _never_ uttered those words before. "In order for such a marriage to send an appropriate message, the affection between N'Tal and me would have to be genuine. That will never happen. I find her to be a highly disagreeable individual. She and I are…not compatible."

"And your refusal has nothing to do with your…human girlfriend?"

_**Shit**_.

_That_ time Spock actually twitched. It was painfully visible and he instantly regretted it.

"The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, my son," Sarek continued dryly, as though faintly amused. "I am certain your…girlfriend will understand once you explain the situation."

For a moment Spock wondered if N'Tal had done any cranial damage in the holodeck. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Give up Nyota for a _life_ with _N'Tal_? Just to send a _message_ to the Romulan Empire?

Spock was suddenly reminded of the first time he ate chocolate.

"I am sorry, Father, but I must decline." He didn't mean to shake as he said that, but he felt as though he was going to be violently ill.

"My son, if you do this thing for me—"

"I have already done everything for you," Spock reminded him briskly. "For seventeen years, I did everything for you and the side of me that is Vulcan. But now, I wish do something for my mother, Father. She didn't send me to Earth for merely a fleeting experience. I apologize if you find my decision disappointing, but I will not mate with N'Tal." Pause. "I am certain you and Mioral can find her a better mate on Vulcan."

"I cannot force you to bond with a female you find disagreeable," Sarek accepted, "but I must ask why you have not told me of your human girl."

"I only started seeing her this week, Father; I wasn't sure if there was anything to tell," Spock replied stiffly. _My mother is soooo calling me after this_. "I met her in Vulcan Literature, where I found her analyses and interpretations to be very insightful."

"Hm," the old man said softly, as though forgetting he was even talking to his son. "As it was…with your mother."

"I am not saying Nyota is a replacement for N'Tal or T'Pring," Spock hurried, encouraged by his father's dreamy tone. "I'm just saying she is…important to me right now."

"Mioral will be most discouraged."

"Please extend my sincerest apologies, Father."

"And his daughter? Shall I speak with her as well?"

_Oh, no you don't! You're not robbing me of that!_

"Don't worry, Father." Spock's eyes narrowed as his whole body went rigid. For the first time since the Romulan's arrival, he was actually eager to see her.

"_I_ will speak with N'Tal."


	20. Chapter 20

**No Fury**

_(originally entitled The 'Rents)_

"And…why were you bleeding again?"

Spock paused for a moment, as though considering _not_ telling Nyota what happened in the holodeck. But then something instinctively told him it would go better for him if he were just honest with her.

Or at least…partially honest. Vulcans tended to handle complete honesty a bit better than humans.

So he told of how he went to his usual training session, only to find the Romulan waiting for him. He, ahem, _briefly_ described their fight, and skipped entirely over the Pon Farr conversation. He didn't want to keep her in the dark forever, but he didn't want to discuss that with N'Tal hanging over everyone's heads.

Oddly enough, his girlfriend remained calm. "I bet Hikaru helped her pull it off; it him written all over it," she reasoned. "He told her where and when you'd be training, and then hacked the system for her." Nyota chuckled. "He probably thought it would be funny."

It was astounding how humans could suddenly embrace logic when given disturbing news. Then again, she didn't know the whole story.

"Indeed he may have," the Vulcan nodded grimly. "I underestimate the thrall she has him under."

"That may not entirely be it," Nyota giggled. "I think some of it had to do with him wanting to irk you anyway. This _is_ Hikaru we're talking about."

"True," he nodded again. He rose from her bed, careful not to grimace when his wounds stung. "I should go to the Nurse's Station. I will have to be vague, however, about how came by these cuts."

Nyota nodded gravely, understanding immediately. "Drawing blood is against regulations."

He looked at her for a moment, as if wanting to say something, but instead he simply leaned into kiss her goodbye. Seconds after he left, her personal computer beeped. Apparently, her mother was calling.

"Nyota!" Bahati Uhura greeted her daughter cheerfully, her entire face glowing like a child's on Christmas Eve. "Darling, how's your new school? Is it everything we thought it would be? You look…well…you _look_…um…uh, d-darling? Why are you…topless?"

Panicking, Nyota snatched up a pillow to cover herself. After a split second, she realized how much worse that looked.

"Do you normally answer a call topless?"

"No, Ma."

"And isn't it the middle of the afternoon over there? Why aren't you up and dressed?"

"Ma—"

"I suppose it _is_ a Saturday. And you _are_ a teenager. But how will your roommate feel walking in suddenly and finding you topless?"

"Ma, Vira doesn't care. Our rooms aren't that big—sooner or later, we were bound to see…stuff."

"Vira?" Bahati beamed. "Is that your roommate's name? Oh, darling! What's she like? Where's she from? What's her major?"

"Uh…," Nyota trailed for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts. "Um, brainy, Trill, and…xenobiology?"

"Xenobiology?" Bahati clapped her hands excitedly. "And a Trill? Is she joined?"

"She's too young to be joined, Ma."

"Have you made any other interesting friends?"

"Well, there's Hikaru—he's my boyfriend's roommate—and then there's Jim, and Lenny—"

"_Your boyfriend?_"

_Oh—_so _close! Thought if I just squeezed it in there somewhere she wouldn't_ quite _catch it…_.

"Yeah, Ma. His name is Spock and—"

"Is your boyfriend the reason why you're topless? Aren't you two a bit a young to be getting topless?"

"Ma!"

"And what kind of name is Spock anyway? Is he another Trill?"

"He's a Vulcan, Ma."

Bahati's eyes grew impossibly wide. "A Vulcan? You're going out with a _Vulcan?_"

"Well, _half_-Vulcan, Ma. His mother's human."

"A hybrid?" Bahati frowned, as though trying to remember something. "I've only heard of one such case. You're not talking about _Sarek's_ son, are you?"

"Ma—"

"Do you have any idea who that boy is?" the older woman gasped. "Do you have any idea how important his father is to Federation?"

"_Ma_—"

"_Zuri! Kamaria!_" Bahati bellowed over her shoulder. "_Ny's hooked a rich alien boy!_"

"_**Ma!**_" Nyota barked. "We just started going out this week. It's not _serious_, okay?"

Bahati blinked, shocked at her daughter's outburst.

"Ny," she began softly, cautiously, "do Vulcans even know how to kiss?"

_This is serious_.

When he was at the Nurse's Station, Spock got a message that his father was hailing him. As soon as he was bandaged, the Vulcan hurried back to his dorm. As Spock opened up his personal computer and logged on to answer his father's hail, he pause to think of how the man _never_ called him while he was at school. As long as he did well and stayed out of trouble—all expected from a proper Vulcan youth—his father found it illogical to commune regularly with his son.

In seconds, a graying Vulcan graced his computer screen.

"Greetings, my son, in whom I'm well pleased."

_Greetings, Beelzebub_.

"Father," Spock nodded courteously.

"I trust that you are well?"

"Yes, Father."

"You are aware of the news from Romulus?

"Yes, Father."

"Ambassador Mioral is won the admiration of many here on Vulcan."

"Will he be extradited?"

"Unlikely," Sarek shook his head. "Unless it is the wish of Romulus to go to war with the Federation over one man. It is likely Mioral will be here on Vulcan for a long time."

Spock resisted a twitch. _Surak's ears!_

"Of course, the Ambassador's daughter is my concern at the moment. I understand you have met Miss N'Tal?"

"Yes, Father."

"She and her father have created an interesting proposition. Mioral has suggested we dissolve your bond with T'Pring's family and create one with Mioral's instead."

_That fucking bitch_. Spock hadn't known such rage since a boy at his old school called his mother "the human whore."

How many times did N'Tal have to hear the word no? Did the Romulan thrive on rejection? Was she plagued with Jim Kirk Syndrome? And what gave her the right to get both their fathers involved in her little crush?

Despite all his Vulcan discipline, Spock felt his ears turn a dark, poisonous shade of green. The only other time they ever did that was when he tried steak for his first and only time.

"You intend that I should…_mate_ with N'Tal?" That last part came out a bit clipped, but Spock didn't care.

"It is a logical match."

_You evil, sadistic, old bastard!_

"I fail to see the logic in such a match, Father."

"A marriage between the son of a Vulcan Ambassador and the daughter of a Romulan Ambassador will send a message to the Empire, Spock." Sarek said with the faintest surprise, as though he figured Spock should've already known this.

_Well, excuuuuuuuse me!_

"Forgive me, Father," Spock began very carefully. "But Mioral is no longer an Ambassador. He is considered a traitor to the Empire. Also, I am half-human and carry little significance in Vulcan politics." Pause. "I…am no one, Father."

"You are my son." Despite his calm, neutral voice, Sarek was clearly offended, there was grim note in his voice. "You are a true child of the Federation, a blending of bloodlines and a living example of interspecial cooperation. And Mioral, though stripped of his rank and privileges, is an honorable man with a vast following in the Empire, from military commanders to university chancellors to activists in the Romulan dissident movement. Again, your marriage to his daughter could create great changes in the Empire."

_You. Ancient. Evil. Bastard_.

"Forgive me, Father, but I disagree." Spock paused, as if bracing himself. He'd _never_ uttered those words before. "In order for such a marriage to send an appropriate message, the affection between N'Tal and me would have to be genuine. That will never happen. I find her to be a highly disagreeable individual. She and I are…not compatible."

"And your refusal has nothing to do with your…human girlfriend?"

_**Shit**_.

_That_ time Spock actually twitched. It was painfully visible and he instantly regretted it.

"The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, my son," Sarek continued dryly, as though faintly amused. "I am certain your…girlfriend will understand once you explain the situation."

For a moment Spock wondered if N'Tal had done any cranial damage in the holodeck. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Give up Nyota for a _life_ with _N'Tal_? Just to send a _message_ to the Romulan Empire?

Spock was suddenly reminded of the first time he ate chocolate.

"I am sorry, Father, but I must decline." He didn't mean to shake as he said that, but he felt as though he was going to be violently ill.

"My son, if you do this thing for me—"

"I have already done everything for you," Spock reminded him briskly. "For seventeen years, I did everything for you and the side of me that is Vulcan. But now, I wish do something for my mother, Father. She didn't send me to Earth for merely a fleeting experience. I apologize if you find my decision disappointing, but I will not mate with N'Tal." Pause. "I am certain you and Mioral can find her a better mate on Vulcan."

"I cannot force you to bond with a female you find disagreeable," Sarek accepted, "but I must ask why you have not told me of your human girl."

"I only started seeing her this week, Father; I wasn't sure if there was anything to tell," Spock replied stiffly. _My mother is soooo calling me after this_. "I met her in Vulcan Literature, where I found her analyses and interpretations to be very insightful."

"Hm," the old man said softly, as though forgetting he was even talking to his son. "As it was…with your mother."

"I am not saying Nyota is a replacement for N'Tal or T'Pring," Spock hurried, encouraged by his father's dreamy tone. "I'm just saying she is…important to me right now."

"Mioral will be most discouraged."

"Please extend my sincerest apologies, Father."

"And his daughter? Shall I speak with her as well?"

_Oh, no you don't! You're not robbing me of that!_

"Don't worry, Father." Spock's eyes narrowed as his whole body went rigid. For the first time since the Romulan's arrival, he was actually eager to see her.

"_I_ will speak with N'Tal."


	21. Chapter 21

**Tantrums**

The best thing about Andorian dream leaf was it how it could be so…comforting. Vira Zwan inhaled deeply, not even sure how many hits she'd had. She just exhaled serenely and passed the bong to Lenny.

"So," Jim coughed, "I take it you have a thing for Hikaru."

She was too high to blush. Instead, she dreamily murmured, "Yeah? So what?"

"Must be hard, then, watching that Romulan crack her whip…seeing how he goes running when anyone so much as says her name."

His words pierced her warm, fuzzy haze, causing the slightest twitch.

"It rankles," she mumbled, still very high.

"You know, I hate to admit it, but sometimes," Jim yawned. "Sometimes guys like a rough girl, you know? A real bad apple, with a naughty aftertaste." He winked. Unlike Hikaru's wink, Jim Kirk's did nothing for her.

"N'Tal is more than just a bad apple," Vira scratched the back of her neck. She was starting to sober up and she didn't like it. It was like being forcibly dragged from a warm, deep, cozy sleep. "She's poison."

"Hear, hear," Lenny coughed. He hacked for several moments before taking another deep hit, and passing the bong to Jim.

"But he doesn't see the poison, does he?" There was a deep sympathy in Jim's voice she would've never thought possible. "He only sees the formerly rich girl, exiled and suffering because of her father's work."

"_Spoiled_ rich girl," Vira corrected him. "Don't forget the whole 'spoiled' part."

"Spoiled indeed," Jim chuckled. "You know she doesn't even have a roommate? She made her father pay the headmistress an extra _nine thousand_ credits to just ensure she'd never have to share a room."

Lenny let out a low whistle. "Nine thousand…that's like three and half semesters here." He snorted. "Daddy's probably regretting that purchase now that he's all tapped out."

Jim shook his head. "As a guest of the Federation, money is the least of Mioral's problems." He turned back to Vira. "But enough about N'Tal. I'm sick of everyone talking about N'Tal. Let's talk about _you_ for a sec, eh? If you really want Hikaru back, I have some suggestions for you—but you may not like them."

***

Before proceeding with a tantrum, tirade, or outburst of any kind, it seemed logical that one must look his best.

Spock groomed carefully before going to lunch, putting on a fresh black uniform and new blue tie (he'd replicated several copies. All eyes were about to be on him for the first time in a long while. An audience was necessary for a proper tantrum. The presence of agape, speechless others often intensified and amplified the effect of an outburst.

Spock was actually excited about his upcoming screaming fest. He'd never had one before, and despite the unbridled lack of civility and self-control, he'd always found explosions…fascinating. The release, the emotional discharge, the liberation...it was all so…_forbidden_.

The Vulcan shivered delightfully. He was growing used to life on Earth. It was so different from his strict and austere homeworld. Being here had been such an…awakening. Never before had he had such arousing dreams, never before had he looked at and touched his own body in the manner he did now. He decided he liked his mouth, and the curve of his ears. He also liked how he'd inherited his mother's eyes, and his father's broad shoulders. And when he soothed himself in the blistering waters of the shower, or under warm dark covers of his bed, it brought about a kind of joy he'd never known possible.

It was as though he was not only discovering his human self, but rediscovering what it meant to be Vulcan.

He originally planned to swear at her in Vulcan, but his people's curses were so muted and long-winded, with references so obscure even he didn't know what they all meant. It seemed logical then to switch to Romulan, and he rehearsed the curses accordingly. But then it occurred to him that by going off in a foreign language, he would be cheating his audience.

Everyone was always trying to get him to show emotion. Everyone was always trying to get to know the "real" him.

Well, he would show them. He would show them all.

He headed out of his dorm room for the mess hall.

Nyota Uhura wasn't stupid.

She knew good and well what that Romulan was doing, stalking her man and hijacking his holodeck time. Nyota knew her boyfriend had censored something in his conversation with N'Tal, but she wasn't going to give him hell for it. Not when there was another girl sniffing around him—now was _not_ the time to make Spock reconsider his decision to date her.

Nevertheless, there was only one reason why a girl like N'Tal would speak to a guy like Spock. He was one of the best-looking guys in school and they shared a common ancestry. Their fathers were both Ambassadors. N'Tal spoke the languages of both their peoples fluently and had a first-hand understanding of both their cultures.

So even though Nyota was already his girlfriend, she wasn't dumb enough to miss the fact that N'Tal had some overwhelming advantages. And while Spock clearly was not attracted to the Romulan today, that didn't say dick about what could happen tomorrow.

Nyota her wasn't a stranger to liking two people at once. And for a Vulcan interested in enjoying the human ritual of dating, experimenting with more than one subject would be…logical.

Smoothing her plaid skirt as she headed into the mess hall, Nyota snorted to herself that Spock wasn't the only one who could be logical. What was Machiavelli had said? Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.

And Julius Caesar had mentioned something keeping your enemies fat and happy.

Which fit since N'Tal was sitting down to eat with Hikaru. He was apparently trying to introduce her to pizza and milkshakes. The Romulan picked at her food with a delicately distrustful air. She sniffed her strawberry milkshake twice before setting it back down and pushing it away. When Hikaru rose, not doubt to scurry and fetch her something else, Nyota swept in and grabbed a chair.

"N'Tal," she greeted warmly, taking a seat next to her. "You are looking well this evening."

The Romulan was surprised but she hid it well. She nodded stiffly. "Thank you," she replied courteously, however, Nyota couldn't help but notice that N'Tal didn't return the compliment.

_Fine_, she twitched. _I can play_.

"So how do you like this school?" she asked, forcing herself to maintain her vocal cheer. "Are you enjoying yourself yet?"

"Hardly," N'Tal scowled, dropping her slice of cheese pizza back onto her plate. "This planet is too wet, the mountainsides too colorful, and everyone in this school gossips like a pack of bored housewives."

Despite herself, Nyota laughed. N'Tal's wording was actually quite accurate. Stellar Valley's students were always so isolated, with little to do. And since so many students skipped at least one class a week, holodeck privileges weren't popularly enjoyed.

"I should have stayed on Vulcan," the Romulan spat bitterly. "At least those stone-faced Vulcan bookworms kept their mouths shut."

_Well, at least we agree on_ something. Nyota racked her brain to find something else to say. "Will your father be coming in on Parent's Day? I understand that it's in a few weeks, before the human holidays set in."

N'Tal looked at her as though she were insane. "My father is a planetary _Ambassador_ who meets with politicians working at the highest levels of government," she snapped unapologetically. "And my attendance at this school is a mere convenience. So I seriously doubt he will board a transport and risk assassination simply to appear at some frivolous _human_ celebration."

"You don't have to go here," Nyota reminded her, trying to keep her voice kind. She was starting to think this was a bad idea. If Spock was dumb enough to eventually be seduced by this harpy, then the two of them deserved each other. "There's always Trill, Denobula, the Rigelian worlds—"

"My father didn't give me an _option_," N'Tal hissed. "I am here because he wills it. My troubles at my Vulcan school ensured my being sent here."

"Ah," Nyota nodded. "So you think you're here as a…punishment?"

N'Tal gave her a scathing look. "Wouldn't you?"

Nyota opened her mouth to say something back, say anything back, but she was stopped by a series of interruptions. First, Hikaru returned, two chocolate milkshakes in hand.

"_N'Tal!_" That came second. Everyone in the mess hall turned to see the only Vulcan in the school striding forward purposefully, his voice louder and more forceful than anyone had ever heard. And was that…fury in his eyes? Fury in the eyes of a Vulcan?

_He's mad_, Nyota realized_. Like, he is __**pissed**_. Her head snapped to N'Tal. What had the Romulan done now? What could she have possibly done to anger him so in the brief time they were apart?

"_Hikaru!_" _That_ came third. All heads turned from Spock, immediately forgetting the Vulcan's unprecedented display, and focusing on the school's brainiest girl as she stumbled in. Vira looked as though she'd just downed two pints of bloodwine. She wobbled her way through the tables until she reached Hikaru Sulu. Once she steadied herself, her right hand shot out and slapped him squarely across the face.

Even Spock stopped before reaching their table, as though trying to keep minimum safe distance. The Vulcan's eyes rapidly assessed the situation, trying to compute the level of danger. In horror, Nyota watched a roommate she didn't recognize, fearing any moment the girl would tumble over and drop into a coma.

"I don't know what you see in this Romulan bitch," the Trill slurred venomously, "but it is officially not funny anymore."

Hikaru stood stock still, a stinging handprint emblazoned on the left side of his face. His fingers were no doubt getting numb from clinging to the freezing milkshakes, but he appeared to have forgotten about them. If he was planning to say something, he didn't get a chance. Ever ready to face a challenge, N'Tal was on her feet and Vira turned—swaying a bit as she did so—to face her.

Nyota sat rooted to her chair, jaw on the floor, eyes unblinking in wonder.

_Dear God, my roommate is about to be killed._

"Who in _Arreinnye_ are you calling a bitch, _kllhe_?"

"Oh yeah," Vira rolled her eyes, wobbling on her feet. "We're all swine and worms to you, aren't we? Ugh, _Romulans_." Vira rolled her eyes once more. "Backstabbing _rodents_ of the galaxy. Vermin, all of you! These _humans_ may fear you, but I don't, N'Tal—your kind come in _every_ species. You're just another selfish, spoiled little rich girl and there is _nothing_ scary about _you_."

N'Tal actually blushed a deep, dark shade of green. She even sputtered a bit when she spoke, "You ….insolent…s-spotted—"

"Oh, _shut it_, will you?" Vira almost fell over that time but managed to catch herself. "You don't want to be here? Fine. As far as we're all concerned, you can haul your fanged vagina out of this solar system on the next transport and _don't let the shuttle door hit you in the ass!_"

She spun on her heel, wobbled, and then steadied herself. She locked eyes with a shocked Hikaru once more before delivering another painful slap. Then, gathering her dignity and trying to walk slowly, Vira stumbled from the mess hall, backed by monumental applause.

Hikaru sank into his seat, dropping his milkshakes as his mind struggled to process what had just happened. N'Tal stormed from the mess hall out a different door while Spock finally approached the table, where a lockjawed Nyota stared after her roommate.

"What the hell is she _on_?"

"Stole my thunder," the Vulcan murmured, more to himself than his girlfriend. "Vira…'stole my thunder.'"

He blinked repeatedly, trying to absorb this new experience. When Nyota looked up at him finally, he returned her gaze, mumbling, "Fascinating." Pause. "Disagreeable, ill-timed, and inconsiderate, but fascinating nonetheless."


	22. Chapter 22

**Settling Dust**

"So…let me get this straight," Nyota rubbed her temples wearily. "You wanted to impress Hikaru and get closer to him by becoming insanely, impossibly, _intolerably_ high?"

The Trill raised her throbbing head from her pillow and glared at her roommate. Nyota had been right to fear Vira's falling into a coma; after her outburst in the mess hall she'd come back to their room and passed out for several hours.

"For millionth time: _yes, Ny_."

Vira was lying on her stomach in her rumpled uniform on her purple bed, looking like a plague-ridden zombie. Her golden-brown skin bore a sickly yellow tint, and her dark eyes seemed to have trouble focusing. Her long, twisting purple hair clearly needed to be redone.

_She's a total wreck!_

Nyota's lips twitched, threatening to smirk. It was always the unexpected things about the Trill which were so endearing. "And while you were playing a round of Puff the Magic Dragon with the boys, it never occurred to that brilliant little mind of yours that Andorian dream leaf just maybe, _possibly_, could have adverse affects on Trill physiology?"

"This isn't about Trill physiology!" Vira snapped, and then winced. Lowering her voice to keep her head from shattering, she mumbled, "At my old school, lots of kids smoked the stuff." She added miserably, "I just never realized _I_ was allergic."

Nyota was torn between laughing at her roommate and chastising her. It was just too hard to imagine the school's smartest girl doing the world's dumbest thing.

But then again, this _was_ about a boy.

Vira rolled over onto her back and pressed her pillow to her face. The gesture reminded Nyota briefly of her late morning with Spock, and her whole body immediately flushed with heat. She had to look away, focusing on the purple rug between their beds as she forced herself to shelve the memory.

There would be plenty of time to think of that later.

In the meantime, she had a sickly Trill to nurse. Sighing as she rose to her feet, "Can I get you anything? Glass of water? Something to eat?" Nyota snickered. "Maybe a phase pistol to blow your brains out all over that wall so you don't have to face Hikaru tomorrow?"

"Aspirin and a tub of chocolate, please," Vira sobbed. Miserably she looked at the ceiling. "I can't believe I slapped him. I don't even remember doing it!"

An involuntary giggle choked out of Nyota. "Well, you certainly got his attention."

"But I didn't want it like _that!_ I should've _never_ listened to Jim!" Vira sighed. "Maybe this was just never meant to be. Maybe this was fate."

Nyota snorted as she walked out the door, "I don't believe in fate."

***

Jim Kirk was a _huge_ fan of fate. To him, fate was a really funny thing. It was unknowable and unpredictable, but if a person knew how to play their cards right, it was a damn beautiful thing.

After all, Hikaru Sulu wasn't the only boy who'd noticed N'Tal.

A guy would have to be blind not to notice that girl. For starters, she had a rack worthy of writing home about. If Jim's dad had still been alive, he would've told the old man about those high, firm C-cups tightly wrapped in the uniform blouse.

_Hallelujah, amen, amen!_

Even the damn Vulcan had to have noticed her. Why else did she so easily piss him off? Had Spock even stopped to wonder why a girl he'd just met could anger him so easily? The guy hadn't even _tried_ to be his usual, stoic impassive self this afternoon. And since rumor had it N'Tal wasn't the only one dripping blood this morning, one had to wonder….

It didn't matter. The toughest competition had been eliminated. Spock, with his dark hybrid looks and princely refinement, had a luscious girlfriend all warm and willing whenever he wanted. When you had a girl like Nyota waiting for you in her dorm, you needed no one else, not even N'Tal. Hikaru, who was ridiculously gorgeous and _insufferably_ charming, had been slapped into another quadrant by a Trill who, despite her numerous eccentricities and occasional bouts of crazy, was actually very sexy. At least, just to look at.

And N'Tal, the toughest competition of all, was weakened and humbled, no doubt licking her wounds somewhere like the untamed wolf she was.

Jim quivered delightfully at the thought of talking to her now. All that swagger shed, all that indignant chatter silenced—she'd be much, much easier to deal with now.

"Computer: locate student N'Tal."

"_Student N'Tal is located on the North Balcony of Laidley House_."

Jim grinned. He ran his hand through his unruly hair, pulled on a plain gray thermal shirt over his black jeans, and slipped on his black and white Chucks. He checked his breath once and dabbed on some of his roommate's cologne before heading to Laidley House.

As fall deepened and the air increasingly chilled, students were staying more indoors. No one but N'Tal was on the balcony this evening, looking up at Earth's moon as evening faded into night. She was still in her uniform with her hair flowing down her back, wavy and wild.

Jim sighed.

"A bit cold out here for a Romulan, don't you think?"

"It doesn't bother me," she replied at once, and Jim raised an eyebrow. He'd half expected an insult to follow. "But I can see how a spineless _kllhe_ would shrink from the weather."

_Ah, that's more like it_.

Jim nodded, stepping forward as he lit a cigarette. The movement caught those sharp green eyes of hers; she watched him inhale and exhale with deep curiosity.

"Your people still…maintain this vice?" she asked softly.

Jim Kirk grinned, offering her one. She clumsily put it between her lips and let him light it for her. She coughed heavily after her first draw.

Jim laughed, "Don't worry. It grows on you."

She succumbed to his encouragement, inhaling and exhaling until the coughing finally stopped. Seamlessly, smoothly, the two smoked together under the moonlight in comfortable silence.

When their cigarettes finished, Jim offered her another.

N'Tal shook her head. "While enjoy this vice, I think Romulan ale is a better one."

Jim sighed wistfully. "Never tried it. It's illegal to obtain it in the Federation."

N'Tal cocked her head to the side. "Illegal, perhaps," she smirked, "but not impossible." Pause. "At least not one when you tell a lazy custom agent that it's just several bottles of perfume."

Jim's jaw promptly hit the floor.

***

While Spock found the experience of stolen thunder to be fascinating, he couldn't help but notice that unsatisfied rage was quite…discomforting. He felt as though he were carrying a ticking bomb in around in his chest, and that if he didn't express his feelings of wrath, he was going to explode.

Fortunately for him, Hikaru was there in their dorm room with a ready ear, and for the first time, Spock learned to perform some human ritual called a "rant."

It was a most…gratifying experience. It was as though his thoughts were a river, dammed and restrained, and this "rant" allowed the dam to burst and let his thoughts flow freely. And "pacing"…_pacing_ was the proverbial icing on the cake.

"…_utterly_ unacceptable," the Vulcan was saying, moving about his room in slow, carefully measured footsteps. His tone was low, dignified, but sufficiently miffed by Vulcan standards. "Calling _her_ father to manipulate _my_ father—all so she can satisfy an adolescent fascination?"

"Maybe it's not about that," Hikaru cut in suddenly. His voice was calm and his face serious. "Maybe you're looking at things the wrong way."

"My friend, would you like me to summon the Trill to slap you again?" Spock blinked. "Or perhaps you're simply not listening. You're not hearing my words because they interfere with your human tendencies towards 'denial.' I will not lie, friend; you are a comely individual with an agreeable personality, but Hikaru, N'Tal is not attracted to you."

"Flattery and insult both noted; flattery accepted—of course—insult rejected, quite naturally," Hikaru nodded. "And I'm not the one in denial here. Spock, you can calculate pi to 122 places—"

"_123_," Spock stiffly corrected him. "My memory failed me that day, remember?"

"—and yet you _still_ can't add two plus two," his roommate finished. "The Romulan Ambassador is branded a traitor. Mioral flees to Vulcan, which is an understandable and perfectly logical choice." Hikaru rose to his feet, coming to stand near his friend as he continued his deduction, "But out of all the politicians he knows, he has to go and shack up with your father, who is an Ambassador to Earth, not Romulus, and who's married to a human. He could've stayed at Starfleet Headquarters if he really wanted to gain the Federation's trust. Or he could have stayed at the Interplanetary Embassy on Vulcan—but he chose Sarek. Why? Have you asked yourself that?"

Spock stood dumbfounded, as though his roommate had proffered an impossible riddle.

"_Maybe_," Hikaru continued impatiently, "he chose your father because Sarek one of the wealthiest, most influential Ambassadors in all the Federation."

Spock shook his head. "Your logic is flawed, my friend. As a politician in exile and honored guest of the Federation, Mioral does not need to concern himself with financial worries."

"Not for _now_," Hikaru agreed. "For now he's comfortable to stay in your parents' charming guest bedroom or at various five-star hotels, and he's satisfied to have his daughter attend a school where he won't have to worry about tuition for the next year. But what about when the Federation's gotten all the information they can from him? What happens when Mioral stops making the headlines and Romulus forgets all about their favorite celebrity traitor? What about _then?_"

The Vulcan felt his blood freeze, horrified he hadn't thought of this sooner.

"He will need an income," Spock falteringly speculated. "But as an educated and experienced individual, I am certain he can acquire an agreeable position… somewhere," he finished lamely.

"And where's that?" Hikaru raised an eyebrow, his lips smirking. "In the military? Why entrust secrets to a defector—they don't have the best track record; it wouldn't be 'logical.' Maybe a job in government, perhaps? What Federation world do _you_ know will allow a Romulan to create and implement public policy? _How_ many of our peoples did the Romulans kill again?"

"He could be a consultant," Spock replied stiffly, "or an adviser or some sort." He didn't like where this was going; it was making him sick. His mind and stomach recalled that horrible day when he first tried Ktarian chocolate.

Hikaru laughed at his words, but there was no mirth, no warmth in his voice. Spock suddenly realized how much he missed his roommate's usual jovial self. This harsh cynic who stood before him was…depressing, frightening even.

"Spock, while I was hanging around N'Tal I got to hear a lot about her old life. Mioral had _money_, okay? He owned a small moon in the Bolaris System. His family vacationed there, okay? And when they were on Romulus they didn't live in a _mansion_ or a _compound_; _they had a palace_. They owned lakes, forests, transports, servants—you named it. N'Tal never had to go without. You think people like that will be happy to settle down on a _consultant's_ salary? They'd barely even be able to buy a decent ship."

Hikaru took another step closer. "I will not lie; friend," he mocked, "you are a comely individual with an agreeable personality, but Spock, _N'Tal is not attracted to you_. Like every other gold-digging whore in the galaxy, she's not interested in what you've got in your pants, just the pockets."

Spock suddenly realized he knew how Hikaru must have felt getting slapped today in front of all those students. For the first time, he knew how Jim Kirk felt every time a girl told him, "Hell, no."

Rejection, true gut-wrenching, face-slapping, ball-busting rejection from a female was such a profound and unexpected experience Spock could only sum it up it one word.

_Ouch_.


	23. Chapter 23

**Girls on Top**

Vira Zwan cursed her own integrity. If she didn't feel the nagging need to fulfill her commitments, she wouldn't be here in Botany Bay 6 spending her afternoon tending to this damn plant so the guy she liked who didn't like her back could give it as a present to his roommate who apparently was a magnet to every goddamn girl in the universe.

_I like Hikaru. He likes N'Tal. N'Tal likes Spock. Spock likes Nyota_.

What kind of hell was this? In what universe did this make sense? What did things _have_ to fall this way?

_I like Hikaru; he's perfect for me. He likes N'Tal; she's_ beyond _wrong for him him. She likes Spock, who is waaaaay too good for her. He likes Nyota, who's perfect for him, but his father may not approve_.

_WT-friggin'-F?_

Why couldn't people be more like numbers? Every equation has a solution; in the end, the numbers and symbols always work things out. Why couldn't Hikaru minus N'Tal simply equal Hikaru and Vira happily in love?

Why couldn't people be less complicated?

Was it like this for adults? Or did things magically wear off once people got older? How did adults meet, fall in love, and stay together? Why was it so easy for them and so complicated for kids? Were adults less attracted to all things shiny and new? Did men prefer reasonable women over bitches?

Just how _exactly_ did they make things _happen?_

She'd been pruning and thinking steadily for quite some time; she hadn't noticed Hikaru's presence. As she turned to get some water for the _rak'charan_, she jumped when she saw him standing there.

"Hikaru!"

"Sorry to startle you," he apologized. "I'd come closer, but you're holding pruning shears and after yesterday—"

"Oh!" Vira rolled her eyes and tossed the shears into a nearby tray. "I'm sorry about yesterday, okay? Apparently the leaf and I don't agree with each other, so we're going to be going on a bit of a hiatus."

He slowly walked forward, looking pensive and putting his hands behind his back. He was wearing his school uniform, despite today being a Sunday. Vira smiled a little, deeply charmed.

_His roommate's rubbing off on him_.

"But you meant what you said, right? About N'Tal?"

Vira felt her face heat as her mind raced. "Um…yeah…see, I don't exactly… _remember_ a whole lot…about—"

"Spoiled rich girl? Fanged vagina? Shuttle door hitting her in the ass?"

"Check, check, and check," Vira nodded quickly, averting her eyes even as she grinned like a moron. _I actually said all that?_

"Did you mean it?"

"Yes," Vira cleared her throat. "I'm afraid I did. Look, I know you like her. And from a strictly aesthetic perspective, I feel you on that one, okay? I do. But she's a _bitch_, Hikaru, and I don't know why you'd be into someone like that. Not that it's my business," she added quickly.

"But you _care_, nonetheless," he raised an eyebrow. His voice was so calm and measured, and there was no devious sparkle in his eyes. "My liking N'Tal…_mattered_ to you."

_Is this Spock masquerading as Hikaru? Do Vulcans have some sort of shape-shifting ability they neglected to mention to the rest of us?_

For a split second, she actually felt paranoid.

_Must be a side effect of getting high_. _Won't be doing_ that _anymore_.

"Well, you know," she mumbled, turning back to nervously drown the sapling. "Being a good friend, having your back, and all that great stuff."

"And is that the only reason?"

"Hikaru," Vira tensed, her fingers shaking on the watering can, "if you like her, it's not my place to—"

"You're evading my question," he said gently, coming to stand beside her. He took the watering can from her and set it aside. He then picked up the shears and resumed her work, but with a far quicker and more practiced hand. The sight of him doing something better than she could made her knees shake.

_Dear me…I think I'm actually going to fall. I'm going to fall in front of Hikaru, bang my head on the corner of one of these tables, give myself a concussion, and leave him standing there wondering why the hell he even bothered_

It took a lot of work not to stutter. "Maybe I, um, misunderstood—"

"You?" he mused softly. "Misunderstand? You're _Vira_, remember? You _know_. You _always_ know. Just like you know right now exactly what I'm talking about."

"Trill body temperatures can actually rise, you know," she blurted suddenly. She wanted to slap herself for sounding so panicked and shrill. To her horror, Vira started babbling uncontrollably, wanting to stab herself with every syllable. "We're not the cold fish of the galaxy, like some people believe. I know the last time we made out my body didn't get any warmer, but it can. I just need the proper…stimulus."

When Hikaru looked at her, the surprise in his eyes made her truly suicidal for the first time in her life. She couldn't stop her painful wince right before she cried out,

"I should go."

"Vira—"

She whirled to leave but he grabbed her arm, and pulled. His intent was to drag her back into both his arms, but alas, it was not to happen so. Not being a particularly graceful girl, Vira clumsily resisted. Her twisting and struggling caused them both to lose their balance and end up tripping over each others legs. Disastrously, they both went down.

_And Jill came tumbling after…_.

After a long, uncomfortable silence, Vira finally decided to speak.

"Ow," she admitted honestly.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this, you know," Hikaru snickered, and she could hear his old self creeping back into his voice. The subtle mischief, the gentle mocking in his voice flooded her with intimately familiar heat.

_Dear God_.

"We were supposed to have a moment," he drawled. "See, I was going to kiss you, and you were going to try to fight me. But then my tenderness and passion were going to win you over and you weren't going to be able to stop yourself from kissing me back and wrapping your arms around my neck."

"Sounds like we were going to have a good time," she mumbled.

"Oh, yeah," he nodded, his head against her shoulder. "It was going to get really hot from there. I was going to finally get to see just how high I could raise your temperature."

_Oh_. "And…now?" she asked feebly.

"Well, now, my leg's bent at an uncomfortable angle, the back of my skull is throbbing, there's ringing in my left ear, and if you weren't already embarrassed enough for both of us right now, I'm pretty sure my ego would be damaged beyond re—"

She rolled over and cut him off with her own mouth. To her surprise he was kissing her back immediately, twining his fingers in purple locks, and rolling her over onto her back.

_**Whoa**_.

This was different from the first time. The first time had been discomfited and almost clinical. This time, scorching heat surged through them both like bolts of lightning and Vira felt sheer gladness that she was here beneath him, and not N'Tal.

***

"Money…so this whole time, it's all been about…_money?_"

_Do not laugh_.

It was amazing how every time Nyota was with Spock trying not to laugh or cry or some such, it was Vira's voice admonishing her in her head.

_Whatever you do, don't laugh_.

It was so hard not to though. After rescheduling their trip to Vulcan via holodeck for another week (no doubt due to yesterday's fiasco), the couple met in Spock's dorm room to talk. Lying in each other's arms on Nyota's bed, Spock was going on about his conversation with Hikaru from the evening before. To hear him speak, Nyota would have thought the universe was imploding.

"Despite her family's revolutionary reputation, they still scheme like typical Romulans," Spock said stiffly, obviously working very to keep any trace of emotion out of his voice. "And the troubling part is my father can't even see it. He's so blinded by his desire to improve relations between Vulcan and Romulus that he can't even see he's being manipulated. And N'Tal—" here she felt him shudder "—_N'Tal_ is a willing instrument of her father's. No doubt she also wishes to return to a life of luxury, but still…a girl should respect herself more in these matters. We are after all living in the 23rd Century, and not the ancient days."

_Do. Not. Laugh_.

"So let me get this straight," Nyota began cautiously, keeping her voice light and her body steady, "you're…disturbed _not_ by N'Tal's attraction to you, but by the fact she was attracted to your father's money and…not you?"

She felt his whole body stiffen next to her and thanked God she wasn't looking directly at him, otherwise laughter would have been inevitable.

Once more, she heard Vira's voice in her head. _Woman, if you laugh…_.

It was so hard not to, though! The silence which stretched between them taunted her, teased her, dared her to laugh at his shameless indulgence of vanity. She'd always wondered whether or not Spock realized just how attractive he was, and if he simply dismissed female attention as non-Vulcan frivolity. _Now_ she knew.

"It is illogical to express attraction to a person when it is not sincere," he said finally, and by his tone he was clearly miffed. "I felt somewhat apologetic toward N'Tal when I first realized I would have to let her down. Now, I feel…betrayed."

"But why does this matter so much?" _Do __**not**__ laugh_. "If you don't like her, why does it matter if _she_ sincerely liked you or not?"

She could almost hear the wheels whirling in his brain as he searched for a logical answer. Nyota was delighted to lie there, waiting for him to realize there was not and never could be a logical answer to that one. It was an age old riddle amongst humans, and were he here now, not even Surak himself would be able to sort it out.

"I will have to meditate on this," Spock replied finally, refusing to admit defeat.

Nyota burst out laughing.

It surprised them both. Spock even started for a split second, every muscle in his body jumping when she first exploded. The laughs poured out of her before she could stop them as her mind reviewed the absurdity of the entire situation.

His prim attitude didn't help to curb it either. "I fail to see the humor in this matter," he sniffed.

Nyota tried to speak and failed, instead she laughed and laughed until tears rolled down the sides of her head and her lungs threatened to cave in from the lack of air.

"Seriously, Nyota."

That sent her over the edge one last time before she could finally stop and catch her breath.

_Whew…that right there came from a deep, healthy place!_

"Spock," she breathed finally, "you're turning into a typical human teenager."

He flinched. "I see no reason to insult me so."

"What I mean is…is it logical to give attention to a person who's not paying attention to you? Is it logical to even _care_ that someone _doesn't_ care about you?"

"Once again, I will have to think on the matter."

"Ah, but there's nothing to really think about—not if you're Vulcan, anyway."

Again she felt him freeze beside her. For a split second she wondered if she'd gone too far.

"You may find deception and insincerity commonplace," Spock said tightly, and thus she knew he was angry, "but to a Vulcan it's unfamiliar and difficult to understand. Dishonesty is illogical and distasteful, and though we do not practice it ourselves, we are surrounded by species that do. Therefore, it is necessary to meditate on the nature of deception, in order to better understand the people who practice it."

Nyota raised an eyebrow. "You wish to better understand N'Tal?"

"Not her specifically," the Vulcan replied grimly. "Her father has attached himself to my family and my father is unaware of his true motives. I need to understand what I'm dealing with."

_You are so full of it_.

She turned to look at him, smiling faintly. "My Spock is always so logical."

A pleasant green tinged bloomed across his face as he nodded slightly, "I am honored."

She leaned in to kiss him. Her intention was to make him forget all this talk about N'Tal and her family, but even as he kissed back she could tell he was distracted. It was as though his body was on autopilot, while his mind stood apart, analyzing and contemplating other matters.

_Oh, no you don't!_

She loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt to reveal smooth, pale olive skin. He seemed surprised by her sudden boldness, but didn't stop her. And yet…even as she kissed his throat, his chest, and gently nipped at his nipples with her teeth…even as his breathing quickened, she still got the sense that he was somewhere else.

"You know," she murmured, trying to get him further in the mood, "I can't stop thinking about yesterday morning."

"I never did apologize for my behavior," he panted softly.

That stopped her. Her head raised a bit so she could look at him quizzically and demand, "Apologize? For what? You didn't do anything wrong."

"But Nyota, I was so…angry and unfocused from my fight with N'Tal," he confessed. "I did not mean to tear off your clothes and throw you on your bed and push up your skirt...." He trailed off as his words filled the air between them with sudden heat.

"Oh," he blushed. "I see," he murmured, reaching for her blouse. She smiled broadly as he unbuttoned it and began to return the favor.

_There now. Muuuuuch better_.

***

"You spent the evening doing _what?_" Despite his disbelief, Lenny McCoy didn't bother sitting up. "With _whom?_"

Jim Kirk rubbed his pounding head as he sat on the edge of his bed. His red sheets and comforters were a tousled mess behind him, even though he'd slept like one dead and probably hadn't moved once the whole night. He was still wearing his clothes from yesterday, including his shoes.

He couldn't even remember coming home last night.

"I'm telling you, Lenny: if you think smoking Klingon tobacco is deadly, try doing shots of Romulan ale."

Lenny's eyes grew wide. "Nuh-uh!"

"She told the customs agent it was _perfume_. You believe that? Must've been a Pakled on duty."

"_Nuh-uh!_"

"She's got enough to knock out a whole dorm floor of students," Jim nodded. "'Course I was already feeling half-dead after that fourth shot." He yawned and immediately regretted it. Facial movement of any kind seemed to cause excruciating pain. "They should rename it Evil Blue Shit, if you ask me."

_Now_ Lenny sat up. "I'm startin' to like this gal," he blinked. "So was there…I mean, did you two…?" He raised and dropped his eyebrows a few times, before flashing a toothy grin.

"Lenny, didn't I just say I was half-dead after my fourth shot?" Jim scowled. "Do you seriously think Big Sam and the Twins could perform after _that_ shit?"

Lenny laughed, scratching his hairy bare chest and lying back down. He pulled the covers over himself, relishing their snug warmth. It was a Sunday afternoon and way too early for him to actually get up and do anything just yet.

"So when are you seeing her again?"

"She wants to have dinner in the mess hall tonight at 1900 hours," Jim yawned. He winced again. "N'Tal wants me to try something called _Viinerine_." He tried to untie his shoes but gave up quickly and fell back on his bed. "If it's anything like that ale, though, you just might have to send a medic in after me."


	24. Chapter 24

**Thoughts and Notions**

**2 weeks later**

_Student's Log, Nyota Uhura reporting._

_Peace and quiet have come to Stellar Valley. Now, I don't mean the rumors are gone. Not here. Not when there's so much new stuff going on. Spock and I have been together a whole month now, can you believe it? My mom thinks there's marriage potential, but I've been trying to nip _that_ nonsense in the bud._

_However, I'll admit sometimes that I wonder…._

_Anyway, school is going great. I aced most of my exams, but I have to admit that my communications engineering courses have been a bit tetchy. Thankfully, that senior TA—Scotty?—has been a great tutor. Granted he's a bit of a dry alcoholic, but the guy still knows his stuff._

_In the meantime, we've been seeing a new side of N'Tal. She, like, _laughs_ now. Jim's been really good for her and quite frankly,_ no _other guy could've handled N'Tal. She would have walked all over Hikaru and Spock. Lenny would've probably been driven to poison her and make it look like an accident._

_Vira and Hikaru are getting the most whispers these days. They, like, fit. Really fit. Most people don't get Spock and me, and no one wants to even_ touch the Jim-and-N'Tal sitch_, but Vira and Hikaru really…_fit.

_She's helping him ace senior level biochemistry and he's helped her unleash her inner diabolical genius. Apparently, they joined forces to rig the Holderby Hall ventilation system to flood floors 2 through 4 with nitrous oxide. Kids were laughing so hard in the halls that there was an actual piss-fest._

_Now normally, I'd discourage pranks, but I guess pulling pranks is how Vira and Hikaru have sex. Everyone at Stellar Valley has "their way" of having sex, because the headmistress has made it clear that absolutely no contraceptives will_ _ever be allowed anywhere near campus. And all the kids here are so ambitious and determined to get into Starfleet that none of them want to risk a pregnancy._

_For N'Tal and Jim—at least, the way I understand it—"sex" consists of getting shitfaced and smoking up a storm. I wasn't surprised to learn a Romulan could outsmoke two of school's biggest stoners._

_For Spock and me…well, we've been fully naked together at least two or three times now and that probably wasn't the smartest route, thought it seemed "logical" at the time. I'm dreaming about him every night. Sometimes, when we're pressed against each, mingling our sweat, I want to forget about everything and tell him to go for it. This isn't just something I want; it's becoming something I_ need.

_He feels the same; sometimes I fear I've unleashed some sort of beast. When he becomes aroused and inflamed so much he pounces, I don't think I'm dealing with his human side. I don't think I've triggered the Pon Farr either. It's as though I'm dealing with something else altogether._

_He's torn through about half a dozen of my uniforms now. I've been pressed against walls, pinned against floors, thrown onto his bed, my bed, Vira's bed, Hikaru's…but we don't tell. And bitten…I've been savagely bitten so many times I've lost count._

_In our most passionate throes, I've heard him growling in Vulcan, talking about "possession" and something about "being his."_

_I don't object to these terms. By day, he's the perfect gentleman. He pulls out my chair, asks me for my thoughts on important subjects, and accompanies me to every meal. Over the past two weeks, he's even taken to bringing me tea at every night before bed. His mother—who is sooooo glad he has a human girlfriend—sent an assorted shipment of teas from Vulcan. The first time, we sipped it together at sunset in the holodeck, while overlooking the resplendent desert city of Shi'Kahr._

_It's a shame more Vulcans don't date. Theirs is a romantic culture. Whether it's going to the opera or reading about ancient kings and tragic queens or just sipping tea while the sun sets, a date with a Vulcan is always magical._

_However, it does make saying "no" in bed all the more difficult._

***

_Student's Log, Leonard McCoy reporting_

_My friends have yet again noted and ignored my objections about the _rak'charan_ tincture. When the girls find out about it, all hell will break loose._

_In the meantime I have prepared and perfected the tincture. I replicated several small bottles with eye droppers. I have distributed it mostly to couples, as they are more likely adhere appropriately to the regiment: two drops a day in a single beverage, preferably before bed and preferably preceded by 8 glasses of water over the course of the day._

_I have not tried it myself, but Hikaru, Spock, and Jim all report it is perfectly tasteless when added to a drink. This would explain while they're girlfriends are none the wiser. Which brings me to another point: Hikaru must truly be a genius to pull this one over his girlfriend. I expected Vira to figure this one out from day one._

_Must be the love goggles. Tend to fog things._

_So far, in exchange for the tincture, we've gotten credits, games, cigarettes, and various, ahem, "recreational" elements, but somehow, I don't think this is all worth it._

_Then again, kids will be kids._

_***_

_Student's Log, N'Tal reporting_

_I must admit, I was wrong about these people. Of course, I will never tell them that._

_My life is richer now in ways that it was not before. My people are highly xenophobic; foods, drinks, clothes, and entertainments from other worlds were strictly forbidden on Romulus. Even with all our luxuries, my family was poor—I realize that now. Why own a ship and travel through the galaxy, if you will not explore its wonders to the fullest?_

_I have not told my father about Jim; he would prefer that I concentrate on the Vulcan. As fate would have it, the Vulcan has started concentrating on _me_. A week ago, he invited me to join him in the holodeck for a sparring session. We used Klingon bat'leths this time. I found the entire situation amusing, and educational, but I was still surprised Spock would want to be around me after what he said last time._

_After our session, he bowed in that polite manner of his people, thanked me for my time, and then…invited me to another session the week afterwards!_

_I do not pretend to understand the will of fate. I do not desire the Vulcan; his ways are staid, and his people are bland pacifists. My only interest is procuring the wealth of his father, whose lands are vast and connections are prominent. Becoming his mate would make my father proud._

_I know he does not desire me either. And yet…I have somehow piqued his interest—at least, as a warrior._

_Perhaps his Time is nearing, and he fears harming his human girlfriend. He seeks to quell the burning of his people through combat instead. The cycle in Vulcans makes no sense to me; they do not know when it may start, and thus do not prepare themselves accordingly. His…trysts with his girlfriend may be affecting him even more deeply than he realizes. I understand that Vulcans do not mate out of season, as they find it "illogical." But perhaps if they indulged more frequently, the _Pon Farr_ would not torment them so._

***

**Two more weeks after that**

"_Esteemed Professor Vladimir Chekov Lectures at Starfleet_…whoa, whoa, whoa," Nyota shook her head as if to clear it. She lowered her news padd to look at her roommate and her roommate's blue-haired boyfriend. "'Vladimir' isn't his last name?"

Vira blinked, before taking another bite of her Jibalian waffles. "You didn't know that? He's always gone by his first name. Says it makes him 'all ze more fearsome.'"

Everyone at the table laughed and Nyota got back to her _plomeek_ soup. Once she started adding basil, lemon juice and a touch of pepper, it rapidly became one of her favorites. On a lazy Saturday afternoon, when wearing cozy pajama pants, furry house shoes and a fleece pullover, _nothing_ was better than a steaming bowl of _plomeek_ soup.

"And he's lecturing at Starfleet now?" she wondered aloud.

"No doubt trying to get the hell out of Stellar Valley," Hikaru Sulu snickered. "I think the good professor feels he's outgrown us."

"How sad," Vira sighed, feigning sorrow. "Too bad he'll never go anywhere. There's no way in hell the headmistress is letting him go. He can 'lecture' and 'tour' and take all the sabbaticals he wants, but I'm pretty sure she has his balls in a jar under her bed somewhere."

Again, everyone at the table laughed.

"So do you guys know what you're signing up for next semester?"

"Spring semester is nicknamed 'combat' season," Hikaru snorted. "Most of the classes offered are battle drills, advanced hand-to-hand, and tactical analysis. It's the staff's attempt to keep us 'well-rounded' and better prepped for the Academy." He winked at his girlfriend. "I'm thinking about taking Intermediate Fencing."

"Brazilian jujitsu for me," Vira grinned. "Professor Montevido said I'll be a natural. How about you, Ny?"

"I guess I could crash your class," her roommate shrugged. "Makes no diff to me. They don't start teaching in-depth language courses until junior year anyway."

"May I join you?" All looked up to see Spock in his uniform, complete with blue tie and polished shoes, and steaming bowl of _plomeek_ soup (sans any seasoning, of course). He smelled of soap and shampoo, making Nyota grin.

"How was your training session?" she asked.

"Grueling," he told her, but didn't look at her. "But satisfactory."

"Hey, guys!" Jim Kirk was far more cheerful these days, but that was the only change. Still smelling of sleep and last night's sweat, he pulled up a chair set down his plate of steaming pancakes drenched in syrup and butter. "You got next semester's schedule figured out?"

"I will be programming the _Serengeti_ simulation," Spock announced in a perfectly neutral manner. "Professor Mitiku thinks it will be good tactical practice for me. The last programmer went on to program a similar test at Starfleet Academy."

Everyone except for Nyota stopped eating and gawked at the Vulcan in awe.

"_No way!_" Hikaru gasped.

"Dude, you could give me pointers!" Jim exclaimed. Spock opened his mouth to protest but the Trill cut him off.

"Are you allowed to make it winnable this year?" Vira asked.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Nyota shook her head, "what's the Serengeti simulation?"

"It's a battle simulation involving two rival fleets," her roommate quickly explained. "The student commands a flagship—the _USS Serengeti_—against the Klingon battle cruiser _IKS Melota_."

"Oh, but it's more than just a simulation," Hikaru corrected his girlfriend. "It's a test which pushes students to the very limits of their psychological stamina and their imagination. No one's _ever_ beaten the _Serengeti_."

"Your fleet engages a fleet of Klingon birds-of-prey," Jim explained, his eyes bright with excitement, and his hands moving nonstop. "You have to match wits with the Klingon Commander ShiVang, which is tough as hell. The primary goal is to take out their flag ship, which ShiVang commands. And he's…unbeatable."

"If he's unbeatable," Nyota chuckled, "then why participate?"

"To see what you're made of!" Jim cried out. "The longest anyone's ever lasted was an hour and a half—before their ship was blown out of the stars." He tapped his chest. "I plan to beat that record."

"This year, however, students will not be forced to work with a holographic crew," Spock announced, drawing all eyes back to him. "I submitted the suggestion that students be allowed to choose their crew from amongst their classmates, and my suggestion was approved."

At once Hikaru and Jim looked at each other, mouths open and eyes wide.

"Dude," Hikaru gasped, "I call dibs on the helm!"

"As long as I'm in the captain's chair!" Jim laughed, and the two high-fived.

"How did you even score that position in the first place?" Vira demanded. "You're a student—_and_ a junior."

Spock shrugged. "I simply took Nyota's advice and applied for numerous scholarships and TA positions. I acquired a few in the sciences, but Professor Mitiku apparently informed the headmistress that she wouldn't mind a programmer with a more…rational mind this year."

Jim rolled his eyes. "So basically, she just wanted to see what happens when a Vulcan runs the show."

Was that a look of satisfaction on Spock's face? Nyota raised an eyebrow as she searched his face further. She was beginning to think she was wrong about his human side asserting itself. No, no—this was all about _Vulcan_ pride.

_He definitely seems cockier lately,_ she noted.

"In essence," he replied finally, delicately sipping his soup.

"Sorry, I am late." N'Tal took a seat next to Jim, setting down her bowl of _Viinerine_. Next to Nyota, Spock actually choked on his broth. But before she could turn to him, N'Tal spoke again. "Spock, I think you did more damage in this session than last week's. My neck still hurts."

Nyota felt the Vulcan go deathly still next to her, but she wasn't concerned about him right now. As his temperature no doubt dropped, she felt hers steadily rise.

The words were out before she could stop them. "You've been sparring? The two of you? Together?"

N'Tal looked back and forth between them, confused at first, but then slowly realizing. The Vulcan hadn't told his human girlfriend how he was spending his Saturday mornings.

For a long, very tense moment, none of the other humans looked up from their meals and certainly not at one another. Everyone sat tightly still, praying for the awkwardness to pass.

Spock finally cleared his throat, saying as steadily as possibly, "N'Tal is a superior swordsman. She has…honored me by being my sparring partner." He gave the Romulan a polite bow of his head and tried to go back to his soup.

Unfortunately for him, his girlfriend wasn't trying to hear any of that.

"For how long?" Nyota demanded, not caring how deeply Jim blushed, or how Hikaru and Vira picked at their food like embarrassed children.

"Three weeks," N'Tal answered, her voice light. "I was unaware that…you were unaware."

"I apologize for my negligence, but I can assure you both, it's not an issue," Spock said quickly without looking at either of them. He blew on his soup even though it had cooled long ago.

"All right then," Nyota nodded stiffly, going back to her soup. It was cold, and when she ate, she barely tasted it. Silence reigned for the rest of brunch, but the unspoken words hung loud and clear for all at the table to mentally hear.

_This…is_ so _not over_.


	25. Chapter 25

**Confessions, Bitter and Sweet, Pt 1.**

Eventually Nyota left the table first, mumbling something about needing to study. Spock didn't dare follow her. Vira and Hikaru excused themselves soon after, no doubt to go wreak havoc somewhere, and then finally it was Spock's turn to flee.

Unfortunately, he didn't make it back to his dorm before N'Tal caught up with him. Before he knew it, they were alone on the Laidley House turbolift.

"Why did you not tell her?" she demanded without ceremony. "You risked losing your human by remaining silent."

Spock opted for honesty. Lying by omission hadn't exactly done wonders for him today.

Without looking at her he replied, "Nyota would not have approved of our spending time together."

"So you risked losing her…just to see me?"

"I wanted you to know me better," he said tightly. "I needed you to know that I am more…than just my father's money."

If he expected N'Tal to protest her innocence or defend her actions, he was sorely disappointed.

"I should have known," N'Tal sighed in blissful triumph, leaning her head back against the wall. "Each week you fought harder than the last, choosing difficult weapons, attempting forms of combat you have not mastered. Sometimes, I felt as though I stood opposite one of our forebears on ancient battlefield."

Spock blushed.

"That pleases you, does it not? It pleases you that I see you…as you truly are."

Still he did not speak or look at her, but N'Tal was not so easily discouraged.

"Why?" she pressed. "I thought I did not matter to you. What I wanted did not matter, so why did you feel you must show yourself to me? I am nothing. I have nothing. I am not an ideal mate for any man."

The turbolift mercifully stopping and opened its doors, revealing Spock's hallway. As he stepped between the doors, he turned to face her saying only, "You underestimate yourself, N'Tal. When I said you honored me, I meant it."

He exited quickly, fleeing to his room. He needed to do damage control and he needed to do it _now_.

Fighting with N'Tal had been…exhilarating. She was a magnificent opponent, resilient, and knowledgeable. He'd often marveled at her; and wondered about himself. The Romulans had not adopted logic, and yet they had not killed themselves off. They had harness their emotions and forged a mighty empire.

Opposed this particular Romulan, Spock's heart had pounded, his blood had roared in his ears, and he'd savored every blow, every searing cut. He recalled how the sweat had rolled off him like a waterfall. He'd loathed to leave the stained weapons behind on the holodeck.

And the aftermath! The sheer, raw _lust_ their fights aroused…he remembered the eagerness with which he'd seek out Nyota, how much sweeter her skin tasted when he was…awakened like this.

Or was it N'Tal he had wanted in those moments? N'Tal, with her sweet-smelling blood the color of liquid emeralds, and her thin, clear sweat glistening across her dark olive skin.

N'Tal, who did not want him.

_By the ears of Surak…what have I done?_

"Computer, locate student Nyota Uhura."

"_Student Nyota Uhura is in holodeck three_."

She would be angry with him. She would be angry, but he didn't care. His time with N'Tal had been all the more exciting because it was forbidden, in a sense.

_You risked losing your human_, N'Tal had said, and yes…that had made it all the more intoxicating.

But now that reality had reared its ugly head, now that the risk was so very real, Spock was anxious to make amends.

Nyota was running her roommate's Hoobishan Baths program. She was sitting alone in a hot bath, surrounded by steam and burning torches. She was wearing her hair straight and long these days; it was black with thick streaks of brilliant purple. A full moon glowed above her, its light giving her a Gothic and almost mournful appearance. Elsewhere, laughter and the clinking of glasses echoed in the night.

"Nyota?" he asked softly. "Will you speak with me?"

Her reply was terse. "About what?"

He swallowed nervously. "N'Tal."

"Oh, you want to talk about her now, do you? Three weeks ago you didn't want to say a word but _now_—"

"Nyota, please," he cut her off, and maintaining safe distance as he did so, "it is not what you think."

"Then why didn't you tell me?"

"You would've been upset!"

"_Damn right,_ Spock! That girl was after you, and you _knew_ that! What else am I supposed to think? _Logically_, Spock, what else should I have deduced?"

"I do not deny that my actions were incorrect, but I do wish you would at least try to understand why I performed them."

"Because your irrational human side took over, Spock," she spat, glaring at him through the steam. "We're drawn to people who don't want us. Like it or not, it's in our nature. I mean, look at you and me. I wanted you the moment I saw you. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't speak—I wanted you that much. But you didn't even notice me. And the more reserved and typically 'Vulcan' you were, the more I wanted you." Bitterly, she looked away. "And now the cycle starts over."

"_I do not want N'Tal_," he said urgently, convinced now more than ever. "I just needed her to see that I'm a _person_, not a bank account number. She's not the first girl sent my way by some greedy parent, Nyota. You don't know what it's like to be the 'son of Sarek,' and have all eyes on you for all the wrong reasons."

He finally came to kneel beside her tub, but still, she wouldn't look at him. After a pained silence, he rose to his feet, stripped, and joined her naked in the tub.

Pressing against her, he insisted, "I want you. And you want me. I was wrong, and I'm sorry. Isn't that enough?"

She finally looked at him, but her face appeared unsure.

"Tell me," she said lowly. "Tell me of your time with N'Tal."

The Vulcan actually blanched for a moment, before struggling and succumbing. "It was exciting," he admitted. "It was dangerous, and forbidden to indulge such violent emotions. My people criticize the Romulan adulation of battle." He looked away, as though deeply ashamed. "We're supposed to be…pacifists."

"Did you want to hurt her? Or did you want something else?"

"I wanted to show off," he confessed. "She and I are of the blood, and I wanted to prove that. But the whole time, I wanted _you_. Remember," he murmured against her ear, laying soft kisses upon her skin, "remember how I was after my sessions? How I would come and find you?" He nipped at her neck and felt her whole body quiver. "N'Tal did not cause that. I sometimes got impatient for our fights to end, so that I could come…and find you. Nyota, you are human, I once told you to never apologize for that. But if we're to be together, I have to apologize for being Vulcan. I want you to know that I _do_ feel, even if I show it less and less as we grow older."

He pried her knees apart and slid between them, kissing her neck and shoulders. His hands stroked and probed everywhere, and it didn't take much to move him to passion.

"And this…," she murmured between his kisses, "this…this is what you really want?"

"If I wanted N'Tal, do you really think I would be here now?"

She finally kissed him back in truth, running her wet fingers through his wet hair. Her legs wrapped around him instinctively as their kisses intensified, until they were both plagued with moans and ragged breathing.

She felt him seeking entry, felt her body automatically tighten against him. But using his fingers and applying extra pressure, he tried to push his way in.

"No," she mumbled distantly, almost unable to dodge his mouth. "We can't…remember? We can't…."

"It is all right," he soothed her, kissing her deeply and pinning her hands to her side when she tried to push him away. "It will be all right. I will be gentle."

He was pushing deeper now, causing discomfort, and she could feel something slicker and more slippery than water sliding into her.

_Pre-cum_, her mind gasped. _I can still get pregnant from this…_.

Now she was starting to panic. She struggled slightly, saying, "Spock…no…I'm due for a cycle soon and—"

Not thinking before he spoke, he assured her between kisses, "The essence of the talon tree prevents us both from being fertile."

At the words 'talon tree', Nyota's panic became full-blown.


	26. Chapter 26

**Confessions, Bitter and Sweet, Pt 2**

"_What?_" Nyota demanded, so loudly and clearly he had to stop.

"Hikaru and Lenny created a tincture from a modified talon tree," he rasped breathlessly, his head swimming and unable to think clearly. "Many students have been taking it, including us. We're safe, Nyota. We don't have to worry about conception."

"I don't recall agreeing to take any tincture of…." She trailed off as realization dawned. "The tea," she gasped. "What's that you once said about men serving women?"

The growing direness of the situation cleared his had. All passion and heat vanished as he realized just how dangerous the situation was. She pulled from him slowly, and he didn't dare stop her.

"Nyota—"

"You poisoned me," she bit out, as her eyes began to tear. Her next words broke his heart; they came out wounded and bleeding, and in his native tongue. "_Goval…Goval, you poisoned me…._"

"No, no," he shook his head quickly, now panicking with her. His heart thudded in his chest as he dreaded what could happen next. "I monitored our blood chemistry, I kept the doses mild—it was safe! It was the only way!"

"Only way?" she asked, her voice shriveled and racked with sobs. She continued to back away from him. "So that what? So that we could—"

"We want each other," he cried. "Remember? But we had…concerns. It's torture, Nyota, utter torture to look at you, touch you, but not have you! It's not fair!"

"And you couldn't tell me? You didn't even ask if it was what I wanted, or _how_ I wanted!" She was out of the tub now, clumsily hiding herself behind a tiny towel. In her growing terror, she recalled the tale of Princess T'Lani, which filled her mind and body with cold dread.

…_and so Her Highness, her womb besieged by the black poisonous blood of the talon tree, fell gracelessly to her chamber floor, racked with vile and vicious pains…_.

"You _poisoned_ me!" Nyota screamed.

"No!" Spock insisted. His voice shook as he tried to reason with her. "We tested everything! There was no danger. We modified the plant. We diluted the tincture. We even crosschecked the various species for possible allergic reactions. It was safe! Nyota! Nyota!"

But she had taken off running, leaving him alone in the moonlit bath.

***

_How in the universe did I ever get talked into this?_

Vira Zwan lay beneath her vigorously moving boyfriend, trying to replay the entire preceding scenario in her head, looking for the flaw in equation.

_The kissing was hot. The touching was hotter. Then he told me about the tincture. We argued, and then we fell back to kissing. The kissing turned to touching, all that heat was amplified this time. But then we got naked and started to use our interlocking parts, and now the heat's gone out right out the window._

At least, for her it had. Hikaru's eyes were blissfully shut as he continued to move above her, lost in whatever wonderful world he was in. Meanwhile, she was in hell. She was sore, she was hurting, and the gaping silence of her dorm room was making things even more uncomfortable.

His pace suddenly quickened, and that didn't help at all. For one, she was lying on her hair, and every downward move caused her scalp to painfully tug. Secondly, the whole 'pounding' thing wasn't working for her, probably because she literally felt _pounded_…like some dull, blunt, heavy object kept bashing into her pelvis.

She was about to say something, maybe make a polite suggestion when her dorm flew open and Nyota flew in, sobbing and soaking wet in a garish purple bathrobe.

Vira sighed. _Oh, thank God!_

Hikaru tore himself off Vira at once, moving deeper beneath her purple covers as he gave Nyota a flabbergasted look.

"What the hell?" he gasped, reaching under blankets for his clothes. "What the friggin'—"

"_Out!_" Nyota screamed at him suddenly, like a distraught madwoman. "Grab your shit and get the fuck out!"

"Okay, okay," Hikaru replied hastily, digging for his clothes. Vira calmly helped him. It sucked that fate require one disaster to divert another, but she was willing to accept its logic nonetheless.

Before he could leave the room, Nyota stopped him.

"You knew," she accused. "The whole time he was putting that poison in my tea and serving it to me—you knew, didn't you?"

Hikaru froze, like a soldier on a minefield. "Uhhhhhhhh—"

"The tincture isn't poisonous, Ny," Vira said softly. "I helped rear the plant myself."

Nyota turned to face her roommate as though in a daze. Hikaru took this opportunity to run for his life, fairly certain his girlfriend would talk her way out of being stabbed to death.

Nyota, on the other hand, felt her last bit of energy drain as she faced this new betrayal.

"You too?" she whispered. "You knew?"

"I _just_ found out about the tincture," the Trill raised her hands, "and we've already had our argument, believe me." Pause. "Looks like you and Spock are still in the middle of yours. Wonder how N'Tal and Jim are faring?

…_**meanwhile, over in N'Tal's room….**_

Jim Kirk was grateful for two things. One, that N'Tal had no roommate, and two, that the he'd started skimming Hikaru's padds from Intro to Romulan. As he moved above her, causing her to roar in her native tongue, it was quite comforting to know she was enjoying herself. The creaking bed was also a nice touch; it made him feel more manly.

However, the whole being-clawed-and-bitten part made him wonder if he'd feel so great in the morning. For the love of God, he was bleeding, like, actually _bleeding_.

…_**and back in Nyota and Vira's room….**_

"Doesn't it bug you that Hikaru didn't ask your permission before spiking your drinks?" Nyota asked, as she dried off and pulled on some pajamas. She sat down on her bed

"Well _yeah_, Ny," Vira chuckled. "That was kind of the point of our argument."

"And you two made up…just like that?"

The Trill sighed wearily. "I know where this is going. Look, it was different for us, okay? You found out twice in one day that your boy was lying to you—and not about little stuff." She shrugged helplessly. "It's going to take a bit longer for you two. I mean, when you've got _N'Tal_ hanging over your heads, and then your boyfriend tells you he's been drugging out just when you two are about to…you know. Hikaru was nice enough to tell me the news _before_ we started."

"Crap!" Nyota exclaimed, suddenly jumping to her feet. "I just totally interrupted you two while you were having sex! Dear God—_you were having sex!_"

"Nyota—"

"With Hikaru! You were just having sex with Hikaru!"

"_Nyota_—"

"Oh, God," Nyota spun, grabbing her shoes and a hoodie. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry! I'll go get him back for you right now so you can finish."

"Oh, please don't," Vira shuddered, waving her friend over. "It was _not_ going good. I was soooo glad when you stormed in."

"Still," Nyota said uncertainly, coming to sit by her friend. "It could've gotten better."

The Trill yawned. "Not today. How about you? Did it hurt like hell?"

"Was starting to," Nyota murmured. "I panicked. I was so scared because my period's due next week."

Vira snorted. "It'll be at least a month before you can get pregnant. Once the tincture is in your system, it takes a long while to get it out." Her comm padd beeped and she checked it. Nyota's whole body froze at the look on Vira's face.

The Trill's voice came out halting and low.

"Hikaru says, 'Heads up.' A couple from Holderby collapsed this morning. They were just now found." She looked up at Nyota. "They OD'd on the tincture."


	27. Chapter 27

**Hikaru and the Headmistress**

**One day earlier**

"Crystal, Patrick," Lenny McCoy cocked his head to the side, "there are very specific rules for taking this shit." He held up a dark bottle of the tincture, shaking it slightly.

"W-We know," Patrick stammered, eagerness bright in his eyes. "We've heard a lot about this stuff."

Lenny snorted. "I'm sure you have. Listen up, because I'm only going to say this one. _You didn't get this from me_. In fact, you don't know where you got this. We didn't have this conversation. Understood?"

The couple nodded quickly.

"Good," Lenny continued. "You each take two drops before bed in a drink of your choice. However, before you take this stuff, you have to drink at least eight glasses of water over the course of the day. _Trust me_ when I say you _do not_ want this shit stuck in your circulatory system."

Again the quick nods.

"I believe we agreed on three boxes of cigs?"

Crystal reached into her purse, pulled them out and handed them to him. Lenny accepted and gave them the tincture.

"So…," she asked hesitantly, "if no one's allowed to talk about it, how do kids know where ask for it?"

…_**.meanwhile, in the mess hall….**_

Jim Kirk sat surrounded by a table of eager boyfriends, dangling a dark bottle in front of them. Their eyes never left the bottle, their heads even followed its every move.

"Dudes," he grinned broadly, "I'm tellin' you. Take two drops of this shit per day, and you and your girlfriends can fuck for days."

…_**and back to Lenny's room….**_

Lenny blinked calmly, maintaining a neutral tone. "We have a PR man assigned to that particular task.

**Monday**

Headmistress Beulah Coraline Jones didn't like kids. At least, not having to actually _deal_ with them. She was good at creating an environment in which they could fulfill their potentials, but other than that, she didn't liking seeing or speaking to them. Ever. She hadn't created Stellar Valley and designed half its curricula so she could deal with _kids_. She had created this place so as to better prepare future Starfleet officers—period.

So when Hikaru Sulu, James Kirk, Leonard McCoy, and Spock filed into her office and sat down on a gray bench across from her broad gray desk, she felt as though the rest of her year was ruined.

A buxom, graying woman with earthy skin in an austere gray woolen gown, Beulah wasn't the fancy sort. She wore neither perfume nor jewelry, never had her hair outside a chignon, and didn't decorate her office _at all_. All of that took the kind of patience she just didn't have. In her room, all the walls and furniture were slate, dismal gray. The carpet was cream-colored, but that was the softest she would go.

"Mr. Sulu," she started briskly, her Southern accent ringing clear.

"Headmistress," he began, obviously in a panic, "I can explain—"

"Boy, don't fuck with me today," she cut him off at once. Her word choice caused them all to stiffen simultaneously. Their backs straightened like soldiers and they all looked straight ahead, deliberately avoiding eye contact with her.

_Much better_, Beulah smirked to herself. She may not like to handle kids, but at least she knew how.

"There ain't a damn system in this entire school you haven't tried to hack into, boy," she went on, pacing her office. "More than any other name, 'Hikaru Sulu' appears in my misdemeanor logs at least two or three times a week. Granted, it's mostly suspicion, but boy, _I know_. So for the rest of this conversation, I don't want a goddamn word out of you, hear?"

The blue-haired boy nodded once, clearly trying not to have a nervous breakdown.

"Good," Beulah snorted. "You were the one who tended the plant. But Mr. McCoy over there saw himself fit play doctor; to design the drug, determine the dosage, and then prescribe it to the student body. Kirk, you're captain of the blabbermouths—you were probably head of the public relations department, weren't you? And Mr. _Spock_," she spat, "you know, I almost didn't accept to my school, boy. Your parents damn near had to beg. After all the fights you got into since before you even had pubic hair, the _last_ thing I wanted in my school was a _Vulcan_ with anger management issues."

All the boys' heads turned to Spock in utter shock. Feeling their baffled gazes wandering over him, trying to recognize their friend, Spock blushed the darkest green in his entire life, his breath catching as he looked away in horrified shame.

Beulah harrumphed at his friends' surprise. "Y'all didn't know? Why the hell else did you think _the only Vulcan_ in school would be friends with likes of you? The chronic rule-breaker, the chain-smoking skirt-chaser, and the _only_ student to ever get held back—did you really think you three were prime candidates to play friends with a _Vulcan exchange student?_"

All the boys blushed now, staring straight ahead once more. The headmistress moved around her desk to take her seat before she began very seriously,

"Do you know _why_ contraceptives are so strictly forbidden at Stellar Valley?" she asked lowly. When no responded, she gravely continued, "You're not here to screw each other's brains out. You're not here to have a fabulous social life, period. You're here, because even at your age, our aptitude tests determined that you are some of the brightest minds in the Federation. Even if you pass Stellar Valley's courses and graduate with a C-average, you're _still_ guaranteed admission into Starfleet—that's how smart y'all are. And that's the _only_ reason why ain't none of y'all gettin' expelled today."

A collective sigh emerged, and Beulah sighed with them. Expelling kids was way too much drama for her. She didn't want to deal with crying mothers or belligerent fathers, not to mention the extensive paperwork. Better to simply scare the shit out of them now, and hope they straighten up later.

"Miss Waters and Mr. Damien have been stabilized; they took two large doses over a twenty-four hour period and it merely shocked their systems. They admit fault for not following Mr. McCoy's directions. However, distribution of the tincture ends _now_. Your parents were all contacted yesterday afternoon—" and here, Beulah noted how Spock especially shuddered at those words, "—'cause I think it's going to be a hell of a lot funnier if I let _them_ deal with you." She paused suddenly, as if seriously deliberating whether or not to utter her next words or not. She finally gave in. "As much as I loathe admitting it, you boys did prove to me a serious issue. If some of the smartest kids in this school can pull so retarded a stunt as this, then perhaps it's time for policy to change.

"So as of 0900 hours tomorrow, students with a B-average or above will be allowed to acquire monthly doses of contraceptives from the Nurse's Station," Beulah nodded wearily. "They will be carefully monitored. Any student caught with contraceptives outside their scheduled doses or with a low grade point average will be barred for a full semester—no exceptions. I want you kids—for y'all _are_ kids, like it or not—to think very carefully about your attitudes toward sex. I want you to ask yourself if ruining a potentially glorious future exploring the galaxy and discovering brand new worlds is worth a five-minute screw between classes. And when you answer yourself, I want you to be perfectly honest.

"Dismissed."

The boys rose and started to filed out, but horror of horrors, Beulah calmly added, "Mr. Sulu, sit the fuck back down."

While appearing to have a stroke, the boy silently complied. His friends gave him sympathetic glances, right before they hastily abandoned him to his fate.

"It's my understanding you want to be a pilot someday?"

"Yes, ma'am," he answered tightly, fearfully looking at her face and then focusing her desk.

"That's a huge responsibility," she mulled for a bit, leaning back into her ergonomic chair. "I mean, everyone's always saying 'Captain' this and 'Commander' that, but it's the man at the helm who makes it happen. He's the one who gets everyone where they need to go, understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I'm not sure you do. As a potential Starfleet student who wishes to sit at the helm of a starship, your judgment has to be _impeccable_, hear? Piloting is _gift_; there are people who've flown ships all their adult lives and still don't know what the hell they're doing. You have a gift, Mr. Sulu, and I don't just mean hacking, and tampering, and reprogramming shit—you have an innate ability to make yourself one with your ship. But you'll never see the inside of a starship if you pull another stunt at this school. Your uncle, Admiral Ryu Sulu, has already made it clear he will have you barred from even entering Starfleet Academy if you pull another stunt. Your parents stand by him on this."

The blood drained from the boy's face and his whole body stiffened. He didn't even have the voice to say, "Yes, ma'am."

"You come from a long line of sailors," she said softly. "I'd hate to see that line end with you." Pause. "Dismissed, Mr. Sulu."

Outside the headmistress's office, Spock was surprised to find Nyota waiting for him. She was fresh from Vulcan Lit, wearing her uniform and a purple cardigan. She approached him at once, asking lowly, "Are you expelled?"

"No," he answered stiffly, "but my parents have been contacted." He looked away, as if to hide the growing panic in his eyes. Nyota could read the single world bouncing frantically around his mind.

_Sarek_.

"I'm sure they'll forgive you," she said softly. "I mean, I have."

His eyes snapped to her at once, suddenly forgetting his trouble. "You have?" he asked, surprise shining in his eyes. "You won't…" he trailed for a second, as though searching for the proper phrase, "'break up' with me?"

Nyota chuckled softly as they put distance between them and the headmistress's office (the place gave off a "Dark Arts" sort of vibe). "I thought about it," she answered honestly, "but then I remembered that you're a half-human teenaged boy and that I might as well start getting used to being disappointed with you."

They walked in silence for a moment, before Nyota finally asked the painful question, "Will you have to leave the school? Return to Vulcan?"

"It's a strong possibly," he stated honestly. "This will not go over well with my father. He never liked it when I got in trouble at school."

"I'd imagine," Nyota raised an eyebrow. She took his hands, linking fingers with him. "After all, things tend to be a lot harder when you're the 'son of Sarek.'"

A voice rang out over the intercom suddenly, startling them both.

"_Spock of Laidley House, please report to the outdoor Promenade. Spock of Laidley House, please report to the outdoor Promenade. You have a visitor. Repeat: You have a visitor_."

Nyota watched him blanched, and tightened her grip on his hand. "I'm with you," she whispered. If she had thought he'd tell her no, that he wanted to handle this on his own, she was delightfully surprised to see him nod. Together, they headed out to the Promenade.

Spock's 'guest' was a bit of a shock to them both. They arrived alone, in stately pale, greenish Vulcan robes.

Nyota her boyfriend gasp in manner she rarely heard as he uttered a single word.

"Mother?"


	28. Chapter 28

**Amanda**

Amanda Grayson was a stunningly beautiful woman, and Nyota immediately saw the resemblance. He had her dark eyes, so human, so full of feeling. She was a tall, dark-haired woman; she wore a sheer veil and an elaborate, heavy Vulcan necklace of gems Nyota had never seen before. She smelled as though she'd just stepped from out of a Vulcan garden; her perfume was sweet with the flora of her husband's world.

"Spock!" she greeted, her voice high and cheerful. "Did you get taller?"

The Vulcan merely blinked, unsure of what to say as his mother glided over to delicately embrace him.

"Still a bit too skinny for me," she said lightly, pulling away. "I thought we agreed you start eating more than just _plomeek_ soup for breakfast. Have you tried pancakes?" She turned from her speechless son to his speechless girlfriend.

"You must be Nyota! Nyota Uhura, right? Such a lovely name! Did you like the teas I sent you?" She came over to hug the shocked girl, talking all the while. "Oh, good—I was right. I used to be your size." She winked. "I brought a few dresses for you; I hope you like them. I want you to look dazzling when we go see _Aehallh Aidoann_ tonight."

Nyota blinked, recognizing the Romulan. "'_Nightmare Moon?_'"

"'_Ghost Moon_,' in this case," Amanda chuckled gaily. "It's a Romulan opera Ambassador Mioral introduced me to—so _intense_." She looked at her son. "That's whom your father is with right now. Last week they traveled to the Bolaris System, to Mioral's moon. See, the Bolaris System isn't under Romulan jurisdiction, so they couldn't permanently freeze his property or accounts on Bolaria IX. I haven't seen Mioral look this happy in weeks. Has N'Tal been made aware she can finally go back to being a spoiled little princess?" she blinked innocently, even as Nyota's jaw dropped.

"Wait," Spock blinked, his heartbeat rising, "Father doesn't know…I mean, about…?"

"Oh _God_, no," Amanda's hand flew to her throat. "As soon I intercepted that message yesterday, I deleted all record of it. I even asked Dr. T'Laris to come over and make sure our computers were fully purged. Told her it had something to do with a virus," she winked at them. "If your father knew, he'd want you returned home at once, and I couldn't bear to take you away from all things…Earthy," she murmured, reaching out to gently touch Nyota's face.

Nyota's face heated; she smiled sheepishly and looked down.

"Mother," Spock said suddenly, "I almost got expelled. Aren't you…upset?"

Amanda threw back her head and laughed. She looked at his girlfriend, with a nod towards him, saying "He gets that from his father's side, you know. All dour and doom and gloom. Fine," she sighed, "we'll speak plainly about this now, and then never again.

"No, Spock; I _don't_ condone what you did. What kind of mother would I be if I did? I don't like to think that my seventeen-year-old son puts so much stock in physical relations he's willing to lie to his girlfriend and potentially jeopardize the health of his classmates. In fact, I'm too _disturbed_ to be angry. Quite frankly, I liked you better when you were getting into fights left and right at your old schools. At least then your father and I knew what to do with you; we understood _that_." She shrugged and looked at Nyota. "My son has a bit of a temper, and the only reason I find it amusing is that he _doesn't_ get it from my side of the family."

Nyota's head turn and she stared at her blushing, twitching boyfriend as though he were a stranger. Amanda caught that and laughed again.

"Oh, he didn't tell you, did he? Did he try to pull the 'I'm a good, discerning little Vulcan' routine?" She rolled her eyes. "Oh, darling," she put her arm around Nyota's shoulder, leading the kids back into the school, "do I have stories to tell _you_."

"_Dude_," Jim gasped over lunch, later that afternoon, "your mom is _hot_. What time is she coming back tonight?"

Spock shot him a venomous look, which was hilarious because he was still trying to be very "Vulcan" about it. He stabbed at his place of vegetables, bringing a huge grin to Jim's face.

Next to Spock, his roommate scowled. "I don't ever want to hear about sex again."

"Oh, I could stand to hear a bit more," Jim chuckled, before taking a giant swing off his Slusho. "Guys! We're off the hook! Hikaru—your family simply issued a threat, right? And Spock, your mom's covering your ass, right? Around 2200 hours tonight, I'm going to get a call from my stepdad. He'll chew me out for precisely 5.36 minutes, and then I won't have to deal with him again 'til the holidays. Lenny's parents are probably going to do the same. Dudes—it's _done!_"

"I hurt Vira," Hikaru bit out.

"And I hurt Nyota," Spock nodded.

"And I hurt N'Tal," Jim snorted, "So the fuck what? She liked it." He winked at the two, before tearing off another slice of pizza.

Spock recoiled from the thick, salty smell of meat and melted cheese. _Does he ever eat anything else?_

"How come when _we_ drug our chicks," Hikaru grumbled, "we get our asses handed to us, but when _you_ drug N'Tal, you two have the kind of sex that's heard three floors down?"

"Well," Jim began smugly, "you two are dating a female Trill and a human girl. When you manipulate and deceive them, they tend to frown on that. But when you manipulate and deceive a Romulan chick, she tends to…appreciate the effort you put into bedding her." Blissful shrug. "What can I say? Deception works for her people; they prize that shit. I rode that filly 'til her cows came home, catch my drift? And the things she was screamin'—"

Spock raised an eyebrow. "You say Romulans prize deception?"

"Uh-uh," Jim nodded, reaching again for his Slusho. "Gets 'em all hot and bothered."

Spock tilted his head to the side. "Then how do you know N'Tal's enthusiastic expressions of pleasure were not a deception?"

The brilliant sunshine hanging over Jim's head immediately turned into a dark cloud. His whole face changed his Slusho froze in midair, en route to his lips.

Even Hikaru's mood had to lighten up after that.

He happily clapped his roommate on the back, snickering, "Score one for the Vulcan," while Jim Kirk scowled.

Meanwhile, the corners of the Vulcan's lips ever so slightly twitched.

On her way to lunch, Nyota met up with Vira and the girls walked together.

"So," the Trill nudged her roommate. "What's his mom like?"

"Really nice," Nyota shrugged. "Gave me clothes. And at 1900 hours tonight she got permission from the headmistress to take us to a Romulan opera at the Grand Holo." Pause. "Where is that anyway?"

"Downtown Charleston, along the Kanawha River," Vira nodded gleefully. "It's a _huge_ holodeck, often used to entertain dignitaries." She laughed. "She's a brave woman if she plans introduce Romulan opera to Earth."

"My thoughts exactly," Nyota chuckled. "But she _is_ a brave woman, you know? Married a Vulcan, moved to his world…almost had N'Tal for a daughter-in-law." She laughed heartily, recalling the woman's jab at the Romulan. "I think they met, because Amanda doesn't like her too well."

"And Spock doesn't have to go back to Vulcan?"

Nyota laughed again, "His mom intercepted the message and made sure his father didn't find out."

The Trill laughed with her. "What a family. I never thought a Vulcan family could be this amusing." She shrugged. "Guess that's what happens when you throw humans in the mix."

"N'Tal may be leaving though," Nyota added, "'cause her dad got his moon back. Can you imagine owning your own moon?" She whistled. "It's called Bolaria IX."

"Bolaria IX," Vira echoed. "Sounds beautiful."

"Supposedly it is," Nyota said. "According to Spock's mom, it has twenty-eight New York-sized cities, a grayish-silver soil, some pale blue vegetation, and a night which always lasts about twelve Earth hours."

Vira's jaw hit the floor. "And N'Tal's family owns all of _that?_"

"Well, they own the property—the moon," Nyota clarified. "But this means every resident, political institution and business on that moon rents from Mioral. He got the idea from one of his Ferengi accountants fifty years ago."

"So," Vira blinked, "you're telling me they're worth—"

"_Hundreds_ of millions of credits," Nyota nodded, almost grimly. "No wonder she used to be such bitch."

"Even so," the Trill snorted, "with that kind of money, _I'd_ marry N'Tal."

1900 hours came, and Amanda Grayson reappeared, once again in style. She came with in shuttle flown an aide and two attendants. She wore a long dark gown of violet silk and silver veil. The veiled covered only the bottom half of her face, tying under her elaborately coiffed mass of long dark hair, which in turn was decked in pearls and tiny desert blossoms. And she rich smelled of the Vulcan earth.

Nyota was the first to meet her on the Promenade. She came in one of the dresses Amanda had bought her; it was floor length and of the palest purple. Though long-sleeved, it bared both shoulders. Despite the gauzy material, it was effectively warm against the early winter winds of Appalachia. Around her neck were necklaces of silver, ivory, and bleached bone, given to her years ago by her mother. Vira had braided her purple and black hair down her back in some exotic Trill style, inserting silver and bone pins to help hold the hairdo together. Likes Amanda's hair pearls, they glittered prettily in the moonlight.

At the sight of her, Amanda smiled broadly. "Well, now," she greeted slyly. "I see what drew my son to _you_."

Nyota's face heated and she briefly looked away. "Um, thanks again…for the dress. It fits wonderfully."

Amanda playfully blew on her nails and rubbed them against her chest. "I'm good, aren't I?"

Nyota nodded. "I wonder what's taking Spock so long?"

Amanda snorted, "I brought him some clothes too. Knowing him, he'll want his robes to look just right." She raised her head in the direction of the school's entrance. "See? There he is."

Nyota turned to Spock emerge. Her breath caught as it hadn't since the first time she'd seen. She felt her heart stop, her breathing stop, even her mind stop as he strode forward almost majestically in pitch long, demure black robes. All the way down the right side of his body was intricate Vulcan embroidery in gold and pale olive green. Nyota vaguely recognized the symbols; they had something to do with recounting his familial line.

Under the pallid moonlight, Spock looked like a prince.

He smelled richly of incense, which meant he'd probably been meditating earlier. He kept his face impassive as he briskly bowed his head to the ladies.

"You both look…agreeable," he said briefly.

"Agreeable?" Nyota echoed. She felt a subtle flash of irritation, laced with disbelief. "_Agreeable?_"

"That's my son's way of saying we look fabulous," Amanda laughed easily. "The trick is to simply ignore what he's saying and pay closer attention to his eyes. They're _my_ eyes, and ain't nothin' Vulcan about 'em," she snickered.

Nyota at once looked into his eyes and he immediately averted them. A secret heat washed through her as she watched his jaw tighten.

Vulcan repression, she raised an eyebrow. Sometimes I forget just how sexy it is.

"My lady," the aide called from the shuttle, "the opera begins in thirty-three minutes."

"Come along, children!" Amanda called, whirling like an enchantress and heading for the shuttle. "_'Ghost Moon'_ awaits!"


	29. Chapter 29

**All in the Family (an Interlude)**

"_Hikaru Sulu of Laidley House, please report to the Lobby. Repeat: Hikaru Sulu of Laidley House, please report to the Lobby. You have a visitor. Repeat: You have a visitor_."

Hikaru looked up from his homework and blinked. Next to him, Jim and Lenny stiffened in unison. All around them, the Hodges House Library went deathly silent. Quietly, Hikaru rose, signed off his personal computer and started walking out alone. One student started singing Darth Vader's theme; another jumped in, and one by one the Hodges students added their voices in a carefully layered harmony. By the time he exited the room, the students had transformed into a resounding chorus.

_Assholes_.

Hikaru scowled as he made his way down into the Foyer. There was a single person waiting for him, regally clad in a red and black Starfleet uniform.

Hikaru twitched. _Fuck_ _me…_.

"Karu?" she turned to face him. Her hair was elegantly pulled away from her face, and she wore her makeup subtly. She laughed when she saw him. "_Love_ the hair. And the uniform—schoolboy much?"

"Hiroka," he twitchingly greeted his older sister. "I didn't know you were beaming in."

She shrugged. "The 'rents asked me to check on you before I ship out. The _Archer_ departs in two days for the Illias System. We won't be back for a month."

"Well, I'm here," he said awkwardly, "and…I'm _fine_, so…."

"_So_," Hiroka chuckled, "show me your room, show me your classrooms. I dunno…introduce me to your accomplices."

He scowled. "That's not funny."

"No," she agreed, "it's really not. The whole family's in an uproar. Our mom's getting hails from everywhere, even our relatives stationed as far as _Trill_." She cocked her head to the side. "Most of our relatives think what you did was funny, but Uncle Ryu is taking it the hardest."

"And…Dad?" he asked tentatively.

"The stalwart captain of the _Moldavia_ will _not_ be returning ahead of schedule, if that's what you're worried about."

Hikaru gave a deep slow, of sigh relief. "Well, that's good."

"So," she gently touched her brother's arm, "show me around!"

"_Dude_," Jim Kirk gasped, "your sister is _**hot**_. God bless the starship engine which gets a regular fondling from her!"

"_Could you stop?_" Hikaru snapped. He nervously watched Hiroka talk to the headmistress in the staff's primary resource room. "What the hell are you doing down here anyway?"

"Making sure you're still alive," his friend snorted. "The fuck is up with you today? You get chewed out once by 'Miz Beulah', and then your family sends—of all the people in your bigwig-heavy family—your _sister_."

"They sent my _perfect_ older sister," Hikaru explained bitterly. "The esteemed Ensign Hiroka Sulu, bridge officer of the _USS Archer_, top of her graduating class at the Academy, _never_ been in trouble for _anything_ in her entire life—"

Jim seemed to recoil slightly. "Oh…goody-goody, huh?"

"Try _Queen_ of the Goody-Goodies," Hikaru snorted. "Hiroka's the firstborn _and_ Miss First Place—in everything. So no, it's not a surprise my parents sent _her_ to visit me." He shuddered as his sister bid the headmistress goodbye and headed back towards him. "I feel a speech coming on," he mumbled.

"Great school you got here, Karu," Hiroka said brightly. "Lots of labs, libraries, lounges, _holodecks_—Stellar Valley wasn't around when _I_ was in high school. Is this Jim Kirk?"

"He was just leaving," Hikaru said quickly, and his friend didn't object.

"Pleasure to meet you," Jim nodded, before fleeing.

"Let me guess," Hiroka chuckled, "_he's_ the 'chain-smoking skirt chaser.'"

"Hiroka," Hikaru began uncomfortably, "I really have to get back my homework."

She raised her hands in mock surrender. "I get it, I get it—you want me gone. I understand. But you have to understand that _you_ brought me here."

"I know," Hikaru interjected, "but I had a one-on-one with the headmistress this morning and if I never hear another lecture again, it'll be too soon."

Hiroka laughed, before doing her best Southern accent. "That Miz Beulah _is_ mighty fierce."

Her brother scowled, making Hiroka laugh all the harder.

"Really, though," she said, when she finally caught her breath, "you got a good thing here. And I don't just mean this kick-ass school. You have a girlfriend, right?"

Hikaru felt _really_ uncomfortable now.

"Vira Zwan," he nodded. "A Trill."

"I hear she's brilliant," his sister raised her eyebrow, "I hear she's the top of pretty much any class she's in."

_She sucks at languages_, Hikaru wanted to say for some reason, but decided to remain quiet.

"You know," Hiroka sighed, "that's one of the great things about this school. If you play your cards right here, meet someone good, pass all your courses, and go through the Academy together, you might even get posted to the same ship. You won't have to sit and worry about what the other's one doing on the other side of the galaxy. Do you know how rare that is?"

Jim Kirk headed back to Hodges Library as quickly as possible. He didn't like how things were looking. On his way towards the Hodges turbolift, he heard the dreaded intercom say his name.

"_James Kirk of Hodges House, please report to the main lobby. James Kirk of Hodges House, please report to the main lobby. You have a visitor. Repeat: You have a visitor_."

_Fuck me_. He hadn't actually expected his stepfather to _show_ up. That wasn't the old man's style. He just called, cussed Jim out, and then just never brought it up again. They had a system, and it worked. Why the hell was the man rebooting their system now?

He knew better than to ignore the intercom; grudgingly he cut through the throngs of whispering students, making his way to the lobby. He didn't see his guest right away, which sucked for him, because he didn't dodge the brutal slap which shot out and knocked his head over.

"_James Tiberius Kirk!_" came the shrill scream.

Jim wobbled on his feet for a moment, temporarily disoriented. "Mom…?"

"Are you _trying_ to get expelled?" Winona screamed, her blond hair in disarray, and her dark blue gown slightly wrinkled, no doubt from last-minute travel. A comely blonde in her forties, she appeared to have a temper from hell. "Do you _want_ to go back to wrestling cows and planting corn for the rest of your life? You think I spent _thousands_ of credits on this goddamn school so you could be a deadbeat?"

"Mom—"

"Boy, if that's what you think, you sure as hell are mistaken! If I'd gotten the chance to actually _bury_ your father, I know he'd be turnin' in his grave right now!"

"_Mom_—"

"_Don't you 'Mom' me!_" she railed at him, slapping him again. Behind him, he could hear the whispers amplify. As long as they didn't reach his girlfriend's ears, he would be okay. "Smoking," Winona spat, "dating Romulan exiles, trading illegal drugs for a measly couple of credits—what species do you think we _are_, boy? Do we _look_ like Ferengi to you?"

"Mother—"

The next slap actually knocked him back onto a bench. He actually had to shake his head to clear it, and there was ringing in both ears. Winona was in his face now, grabbing him by the collar and rasping very lowly, very dangerously now, "If you want to rot in the ass crack of Iowa like every other inbred dunghead out there, you let me know right now. But if you want to be the man your father would want you to be, then the next reports from Miz Beulah better be _stellar_—you got that?"

Winona pulled back suddenly to daintily adjust her hair and clothes. She then bent over to straight his tie. He flinched when she came towards him, expecting another slap. After that, she stood back and asked very levelly, "So? How's your asthma? Is the prescription still working or do you want to go back on the inhalers? Are you eating okay or are you still living off pizza? You know how badly melted cheese gives you gas."

Jim gawked at his mother, feeling his balls rapidly shrink.

Unlike his comrades, Lenny McCoy knew he wasn't getting a visitor anytime soon. That just wasn't how his family operated. His parents were the "I'm only going to tell you once" type of folks. He'd already gotten held back once, thanks to Klingon tobacco, and that hadn't helped his case. He already _knew_ his fate once the headmistress summoned him to her office. Glancing at the time on his datapadd, Lenny nodded in defeat. In the McCoy home, dinner had just ended and the dishes were being put away. Which meant that his father was going to be sending him a message…right…about….

_Be-beep. Be-beep. Be-beep_.

Lenny sighed wearily, flipping open his computer and greeting his graying father's grim face.

"Hi, Daddy."

"Listen, son," the old man said terse, "'cause I'm only gonna tell you once. You sure are lucky this full year got paid up. But if you think you're spending your senior in Appalachia, you can forget it."

"Yes, Daddy."

"Now the Mississippi Academy of Medicine is waiting for you next fall. Dean Myers has already set aside a scholarship. I don't wanna to hear two words about it, hear?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"You look tired, boy. That Kirk not letting you get your rest, son?"

"He's all right, Daddy."

"Well good. Your mama sends her love."

"Send her my love too, Daddy."

"Will do. 'Night, son.

"'Night, Daddy."


	30. Chapter 30

**Stories, an Outtake**

_A/N: Once again, for supremelurker…._

Spock led his mother and girlfriend into his dorm where, fortunately, his roommate was absent. Not that he didn't think Hikaru was good enough to meet his mother; he just didn't think it best if he met her _now_.

Amanda grinned broadly at her son's room; to the right she saw the evidence of an obviously human roommate. His walls were plastered with posters of long dead musicians—Nine Inch Nails, Marilyn Manson, Daft Punk, Atari Teenage Riot, Glassjaw—his blue comforter was a tousled mess, and his shoes were haphazardly strewn across the blue rug by his bed. There was a blue lava lamp on his nightstand (_Heavens, these kids really take their house colors seriously!_) which cast an eerie, distorted glow upon the room.

To the right was all the evidence of her dutifully Vulcan son. She snickered to see his immaculately smooth blankets (even though she knew he hadn't been expecting her), his barren white walls, and the neat little altar at the foot of his bed. She laughed aloud at once.

"Oh, Nyota," she giggled, "that altar's just like the one Spock had when he was little. Reminds me of when he was about six years old—"

"Mother," her son whispered, dark eyes imploring from a blanching face which clearly struggled to remain neutral, "I fail to see the necessity for telling _this_ particular story."

"Oh, it's harmless, dear," she dismissively waved, taking Nyota's hand and leading her to sit down on Spock's bed. "See, Sarek made him say prayers every night before bed, and as you know, Vulcan writing is so very beautiful—even the prayers for children are exquisitely written. When Spock was six, his favorite prayer went something like, 'O Surak, Surak, wisest and most impassive of all the Forebears; kindly watch over this devout and humblest student…'or some such—you get the gist."

As Nyota nodded, she heard Spock mumble, "Mother, I would prefer if you did not—"

"Hush, darling," Amanda rolled her eyes, "It's not _that_ big a deal. So anyway," she went on cheerfully, her hands delightfully animated, "Spock had this _adorable_ speech impediment at the time which would later take a full year of therapy to correct. So every night, when I walked by his little bedroom, I'd hear this tiny voice reciting, 'O Thuwak, Thuwak, withetht and motht impathiwe of awll the Forebearth; kindly watch ower thith dewout and humbletht thudent—'"

Nyota doubled over laughing before she could stop herself. When she caught a glimpse of her boyfriend out her tear-filled eyes, she saw him blush an almost toxic shade of green. That didn't help at all. Nor did Amanda's laughter. The two females laughed and laughed while Spock tightly shuddered nearby. He was all the more thankful his roommate hadn't been around to hear that. Nyota would at least keep silent, but Hikaru….

"Oh, Nyota," Amanda sighed, wiping her tears when she finally caught her breath, "so when do I get to meet your mother?"

Spock's eyebrow raised as his blush withdrew; he tilted his head to the side, obviously intrigued by the thought. Nyota's head suddenly filled with flashes of her chatty mother arriving in her prehistoric shuttle, and all laughter fled her chest.

"_Never_," she answered immediately.


	31. Chapter 31

**The Praetor's Son**

Amanda's shuttle was no ordinary shuttle.

Nyota blinked at the rich red carpet, and inhaled the scented air. The shuttle was small without being cramped, clearly state-of-the art. The consoles glittered, the ride was completely smooth, and Nyota could imagine how far her mother's jaw would drop just to get her hands on a shuttle like this.

The aide who piloted the ship and the attendant who co-piloted were both human and the primary attendant was the Vulcan version of the headmistress. She was solidly built, tall, with her gray hair cut in the traditional Vulcan style. Her outfit was a severe, drab black gown, and she smelled deeply of incense—her most feminine quality. For a split second Nyota wondered if the woman was Amanda's attendant or her bodyguard.

"May I introduce my primary aide Mr. French," Amanda glowed, "and his wonderful co-pilot Miss Paola. And my trusted adviser in all things, Madam T'Laurian. People, this is Miss Nyota Uhura, my son's…lady friend." She winked at Nyota.

Nyota's bowed her head slightly, feeling her face heat. Sitting opposite Spock, she noticed he still refused to look at her. _How come in all our time together_, she wondered, _he never mentioned that he once had a speech impediment?_

Her inner evil voice immediately replied, _Would __**you**__ run around telling people about "Thuwak, Thuwak?"_

Nyota let out a slightly giggle which she immediately disguised as a cough. Too late, though; eyes were already on her. "So, um," she began delicately, "is '_Ghost Moon'_ a popular opera on Romulus?"

"Hardly," T'Laurian answered stiffly. "It's been banned on Romulus for the past eighty years. The composer himself spent the last the half-century in exile when he presented it to the Romulan Senate."

Nyota blinked, slightly confused. "Is it, um…racy or something?"

Everyone save the Vulcans laughed.

Oddly enough, it was T'Laurian who explained. "In a manner of speaking, yes. Despite their not adopting the teachings of Surak, Romulans are a prudish species."

_Don't you mean the teachings of Thuwak?_

Nyota blinked, taken off guard by her own thoughts. _Uh…WTF…?_

"It's interesting you bring that up," Miss Paola nodded, "Romulans rejected a strictly regimented lifestyle as prescribed by Surak, and yet in many ways repressed themselves over the past centuries."

_You mean as_ _prescribed by Thuwak?_

Nyota clamped her hand over her own mouth as a strong tremor rippled through her whole body. _Oh, __**shit**_.

"Interesting point, Madam T'Laurian," Miss Paola nodded her head of long, pitch black hair. "My observations of Romulans indicate that they can embrace logic and discipline as well as any Vulcan. Therefore, the most logical course of action for their people would be to embrace the wisdom of Surak."

_Wisdom of Thuwak, you say?_

Nyota coughed, and it made her boyfriend's eyebrow rise. His dark eyes narrowed as his gaze drilled into her. He seemed to be reading her thoughts, because his complexion immediately darkened to a turbulent flushing green.

_Damn it!_ she twitched. _Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!_

"Romulans are too passionate a people," Mr. French shook his head. "Disciplined and strict as their culture may be, they would still find the way of Surak to be far too restrictive."

_The way of Thuwak, huh?_

Nyota's head was going to explode. The pressure of repressed laughter was building so rapidly she was pretty sure her brain was going to erupt through her skull and splatter all over Madam T'Laurian. She suddenly imagined the calm, impassive Vulcan matron sitting perfectly still, dripping in blood and brains and not even batting so much as an eyelash.

Nyota "coughed" a few times before asking. "So…um…ahhhhhh…what's the story of the opera again?"

"The story focuses on Tiral," Amanda began gaily, blissfully oblivious to Nyota's condition, "the only illegitimate son of a dying Praetor some two or three centuries ago. Much to the displeasure of the Praetor's legitimate family, Tiral is slated to inherit the bulk of the Praetor's wealth—a direct violation of Romulan tradition."

Nyota's unexpressed laughter quickly subsided as her curiosity took over. "Was Tiral even a real person?"

"Romulan history speaks openly of his father, Praetor Nirok, but only briefly mentions the illicit affair Nirok had with Lady N'Roya, daughter of his one of his favored senators," T'Laurian explained. "However, Tiral's existence is hinted and rumored, but never explicitly confirmed."

"To even suggest that a bastard son of a Praetor could be portrayed as a hero is akin to blasphemy," Spock finally spoke up. "Romulan politicians often present themselves as perfectly loyal, upstanding subjects of the Empire. They never admit to having illicit affairs and _never_ acknowledge illegitimate children."

Nyota's brow furrowed in disbelief. "And the composer presented _this_ opera to the Romulan _Senate?_"

"Tetral of Chulak," Amanda chuckled, "was originally a music historian. He's written many operas about the old Praetors. He believes that it is not enough to tell only a half a story of a leader's life. He thinks a balanced perspective is healthier for all students of history and culture."

"A most logical approach," T'Laurian nodded. "I found it most agreeable when Mioral introduced us to Tetral's work. It is Miss N'Tal's favorite opera of all time."

"Oh?" Nyota blinked. "And why's that?"

Amanda smiled faintly. "Because N'Tal and her family are descendants of Nirok."

The Grand Holo was indeed a grand and gorgeous building overlooking the greenish Kanawha River. Its seating capacity was for at least a thousand, at least when opera program was being run.

The opera house mimicked the Romulan style, complete with greenish-gray balconies emblazoned with golden eagles. The curtains of the stage and the balconies were blue-green and trimmed with silver silken cloth. The stage was huge, rectangular, and unlike the Vulcan opera Nyota had seen with Spock, the accompanying orchestra was much smaller, with less diverse instruments. The chorus's dais lay to the left of the stage instead of the right, and they were half the size of the Vulcan chorus.

The balcony Amanda had reserved was in the center; as the main dignitary present, she had the largest and most luxurious box. She sat in the middle, on a throne-like chair. To her right sat T'Laurian, Mr. French, and Miss Paola. To her left sat Spock and Nyota. There were four holographic waiters programmed to only serve that box. They brought round glasses of sweet, pale purple champagne from Trill, and some rare Vulcan tea for Madam T'Laurian and Spock.

Many members of the audience kept looking to their box and whispering, causing Nyota's heart to pound. She suddenly realized she wasn't sitting with ordinary people now. She was sitting with the wife of _Sarek_, Sarek's whose works were required reading in schools throughout the Federation. Sarek, who had kept whole worlds from falling to war.

Her breath caught, and Spock looked at her, eyes hinting concern even as he neutrally inquired, "Are you well?"

_Amanda was right. Ignore his words. Focus on the eyes_.

"I'm fine," she nodded. But she wasn't. She was falling for the son of Sarek. What did that mean for her? When he used to mention being a 'son of Sarek' she hadn't fully understood what that meant. She'd even rolled her eyes sometimes, thinking it was his standard excuse for everything. But now…now she was beginning to see what he meant, what he'd lived through.

She could imagine Spock's classmates on Vulcan giving him looks and whispering amongst themselves. A _human_ wasn't supposed to be wife of the great Sarek. The great Sarek wasn't supposed to have a _hybrid_ son. The great Sarek, the most admirable of all living Vulcans, was not supposed to leave his wealth and work to some half-breed who would never know what it truly meant to be Vulcan. That was not logical. That was not what Surak would have done. Surak had intended for Vulcans to live at peace with themselves and other species, not _breed_ with them. In their minds, Spock had no place at his father's side. He was unworthy of his father's legacy.

As if on cue, the lights of the vast opera house dimmed, and the holographic Romulan chorus, garbed in regal black and sporting tattooed brows, filed onto the dais, taking their seats. Opposite them, the musicians entered and seated themselves below the towering height of the stage.

"Pay close attention to the lead Vulcan lyrist," Amanda whispered to Spock and Nyota, "he has beautiful solos."

While the curtains were still shut, the Romulan chorus rose in unison. The holographic Romulan maestro began to conduct (with no wand, Nyota noticed), and the music began.

Romulan music sounded vaguely similar to the Klingon-textured Vulcan music. There were still those deep guttural strings, but the lyrists were more haunting, their music thinner and heart-wrenching.

And when the chorus began to sing, Nyota noticed their voices were deep and full-throated, but not rough. Instead, their voices came out as elegantly as the music of a cello. They harmonized with one another almost sweetly, almost delicately. It took Nyota by surprise.

The lyrics however, were pure Romulan.

_"All hail the Praetor!_

_Praetor, all hail!_

_Nirok lies dying and poisoned_

_Aged one and ninety years_

_Praetor, all hail!_

_His mistress has fallen, body in the river_

_Lady N'Roya of Malar—foulest of play!_

_Praetor, all hail!_

_"Was Nirok too a fallen one?_

_Did his enemies strike him down?_

_Praetor, all hail!_

_Blood in family, flowing and ceasing?_

_—Where his enemies his kin?_

_Praetor, all hail!_

_Was it the matriarch, wife of the Praetor?_

_Sivir, wife of the Praetor?_

_Praetor, all hail!_

_Was it the Firstborn, Nekra the Prince?_

_First Blood of the Praetor?_

_Praetor, all hail!_

_"Treachery servants, was it treachery of slaves?_

_Was there one on his staff embittered, enraged?_

_Praetor, all hail!_

_Was it the councilor, Toprak of Malar?_

_Did he avenge a daughter bespoiled?_

_Praetor, all hail!_

_Was it the general, Krektor the Praetor's right blade?_

_Was it He Who Felled the Armies of D'Ahmal?_

_Praetor, all hail!"_

"A whodunit!" Nyota gasped under her breath. Spock leaned slightly to his left to hear her better.

"Pardon?" he murmured.

"This is opera is a whodunit," she whispered excitedly. "A mystery! I thought it was going to be all about the Praetor's son, but it's about who killed the Praetor!"

He nodded slightly, whispering, "Romulan political intrigue is a staple of their culture. The historical betrayals and assassinations of their leaders are the backbone of their arts." He leaned back into his chair.

And Nyota leaned back into hers. This was going to be a most exciting opera!

The Romulan actor who portrayed Tiral was a beautiful man, dark olive-skinned, black-haired and dressed in splendid dark armor. The tattoo above his brow—unlike all the other characters—was done in blood red ink, announcing his status as an illegitimate child. After meeting with his dying father who shockingly decreed Tiral would be the one to inherit all that was his, the hero set out the Praetor's country home near Chulak Valley where, posing as a junior Senator, he issued summons to all those closest to his father—the Praetor's wife Sivir, his half-brother Nekra, his grandfather Toprak, and the valorous General Krektor. They were instructed to arrive at night and in utter secrecy, as there was supposedly an alternate version of the Praetor's will which did not favor Tiral.

"_Never a bastard favored_," sang the messenger he sent to them all, "_never since our forebears fled the blistering of the Forge/To Chulak come silently, and bring none…_."

Once they all arrived, a serving girl lit a cozy hearth and provided them all with round after round of ale.

A beautiful young actress with a glorious soprano voice, she sang, "_My master bids you welcome, most welcome!/Be welcome, dear guests! Drink deep, drink free!/ Forgive that he tarries, forget your worries! Never a bastard favored, he swears! The Praetor most honorable did not you fail!_"

"_Praetor, all hail!_" boomed the chorus (they did his any time the Praetor was mentioned).

The unwitting guests drank and drank until they were all deeply intoxicated, singing carelessly of their anger towards the Praetor.

"_My husband and lord_," lamented Sivir, "_knew not my love/Nine sons I bore him, a healthy first-blood child I bore him/—But he knew not my love/N'Roya kept his heart in chains, forever entrenched in his embrace…."_

"_I who served my father well/Forever sought his love and grace,_" growled Nekra, "_and did all to please his will/was never granted smile nor praise…._"

The wizened old councilor mourned his daughter. "_My daughter, my daughter—my Praetor, why?/Why take my one child, you who had nine?/Rob her of husbands and honors her own/—Why, my Praetor, O Praetor—why?_"

The fiery general too mourned the loss of N'Roya. "_I who felled armies deserved my own bride/Betrothed to me she was/All that was N'Roya promised me/How many wounds for my Praetors?/Soldiers fallen for my Praetor?/Who is this Praetor who takes all that's mine?_"

Behind a curtain, Tiral listened to their entire exchange, realizing they all had motive to kill his father—but none of them were actually guilty. Piecing clues from each person's song, Tiral realized that the killer was actually someone else.

Rushing out from behind the curtain, Tiral tried to stop his guests from drinking any more. But he was too late; one by one his guests fell before him, succumbing to the poison he'd put in the ale.

"I don't get it," Nyota blinked, after the Shakespearean-like opera ended with a thunderous applause. "Why did the Praetor kill his own mistress, and then kill himself?"

"You misunderstood the Romulan lyrics," Spock corrected her, "the Praetor didn't. His _mistress_ poisoned him and then killed herself."

"In her mind," T'Laurian explained, accepting yet another cup of tea, "it was the most logical course of action to assure her son's place as his father's heir."

Nyota's body chilled. "A bit extreme, don't you think? N'Roya already knew her son was the Praetor's favorite."

"And the moment he confirmed it," Amanda said softly, "Tiral's life was in danger. She knew that if she and the Praetor appeared to be victims of assassination, it would throw everyone off for a moment, giving her son a chance to strike first."

Nyota remained disturbed. "But to poison the man she loved, then gut herself and jump into a river…."

Amanda sighed wearily. "Someday, you'll understand. A mother will do anything to protect her child, especially when there are those who think he never should've been born."


	32. Chapter 32

**Honor, Pt. 1**

Nyota pondered Amanda's Grayson's words as they walked back to her shuttle and headed north to Stellar Valley. And she wasn't the only one; Amanda's words at the end of the opera had seemed to make everyone stop and mull over the pink elephant in the room. No one looked at Spock, and he didn't look at anyone else.

However, the silence wasn't exactly tense. At least not for Nyota. Though she didn't look at him, she was distinctly aware of his presence. While he radiated emotional cool, he sat next to her, and she could feel his physical warmth also radiating.

Nyota smiled, amused by the Vulcan contradiction; hot-blooded bodies with coldly rational minds.

Mr. French's console beeped urgently, and he checked it at once. Immediately, all the blood drained from his face. When he spoke, his voice came out raspy and hoarse.

"Ambassador Mioral has been assassinated on Bolaria IX," he announced, shaking. "There was an attack on his home in Ch'Tau."

Amanda and Spock both leapt to their feet,

"Sarek is unharmed," Mr. French quickly informed them, "but in the last two hours, all of his relatives on that moon have been tracked down and…terminated," he finished uncomfortably.

"N'Tal," Amanda whispered, panicking, "does N'Tal know?"

***

They were supposed to meet on Laidley Balcony.

They were supposed to meet on Laidley Balcony, now that the December moon was out and the clean mountain of Appalachia was crisp and refreshing, even to a desert-born Romulan.

They were supposed to meet on Laidley Balcony, now that the December moon was out and the clean mountain of Appalachia was crisp and refreshing, even to a desert-born Romulan. They were going to have a smoke, and muse about the first time they'd met like this under the moonlight. They were going to kiss, and try to map out their near future. Jim was going to captain the _USS Serengeti_ during combat season, and N'Tal was going to be his First Officer. They would be the scourge of the holodeck.

They were supposed to meet…but they didn't do that.

Instead, Jim stood in the holodeck, in a scary gray room full of torches and ancient weapons.

_Computer, locate Student N'Tal of Laidley House._

_Student N'Tal is in holodeck 6_.

That wasn't the plan. She wasn't supposed to be there. The weekend was over and students weren't allowed to play in the holodeck.

But there she was.

_We were supposed to meet on Laidley Balcony, now that the December moon was out and the clean mountain of Appalachia was crisp and refreshing, even to a desert-born Romulan. I was going to shiver in the winter wind, and she was going to laugh at me._

There was a mean, jagged dagger sticking out of his girlfriend's chest now, a rude, interfering, pest of a dagger. Her fingers were still wrapped around the hilt for where she'd stabbed herself. She had stabbed herself and now she lay in a growing pool of venomous green.

_We were supposed to meet…_.

Jim distantly heard screaming. Coarse, guttural screaming, blood-curdling screaming. He didn't know where it was coming from. He could hear it only faintly. Even after staff members came in uninvited and dragged him from the side of his N'Tal, his beautiful, fierce N'Tal, Jim never once realized the screaming was coming from him.

***

"He screamed so much the staff had to tranquilize him after a while," Hikaru somberly explained to Amanda, Spock and Nyota. Standing on the moonlit Promenade in his pitch black uniform, he looked like a pallid angel of death. He crossed his arms over his chest, shaking, but not from the cold.

"Why the hell would N'Tal _do_ something like that?" Nyota exploded without thinking. Her voice and body trembled violently as she tried to make sense of it all. "She was safe here. No one was going to come all the way to Earth after her. She wasn't even politically significant! Why would she kill herself?"

"Romulan honor," Spock replied grimly, his breathing rate slightly increased and his eyes showing deep concern. "Where is Jim now?

"Strapped to a bed at the Nurse's Station," his roommate replied better. His parents have been called. The headmistress has recommended he be removed for the remainder of the semester, and they agree."

"He is human," Spock said confidently. "Despite this emotional setback, he will adapt, will he not?"

Amanda shook her head, saying softly. "No, son. No one simply 'adapts' to that."

For once, there were no whispers. No one wanted to say her name. No one wanted to invoke the spirit of the first student to ever commit suicide at Stellar Valley. The teachers didn't bring her up, and the students didn't insist they do.

There was no outpouring of grief, which Nyota found odd. Like Spock, the non-human students simply accepted the notion of "Romulan honor" and went about their days. And the human students still had way too many negative memories of N'Tal, and honestly didn't miss her.

For Nyota, it simply made her death all the more depressing.

Jim's parents took him home the day after he found his girlfriend's body. He was sedated and restrained as two staff members loaded him into a rented shuttle. The students who witnessed it remained silent; for _him_, they felt grief.

The rest of the weekdays passed in eerie calm; students drowned themselves in homework as the end of the semester exams arrived. When the weekend finally dawned, Nyota went to visit her boyfriend while his roommate went to visit hers.

She lay down in his arms quietly, and they didn't speak for the longest. The only light in the room came from candles burning on his little altar. He'd been meditating before she arrived; the smell of incense hung thickly on the air.

His body was so comfortably warming, so strongly built and so solid Nyota felt…safe for the first time since the news. It was a wonderful feeling after drifting through shadowed halls and eating with silently haunted students. In fact, the longer he held her, the better she felt, the feelings growing and the warmth spreading through. In a fit of unbridled affection, she turned in his arms to face him, to press her chest to his and gently kiss his mouth.

He kissed her back immediately, and she suddenly realized it was the first time they'd kissed since their argument in the holodeck. That argument didn't matter; she realized. Life was far too short, at least for her; Vulcans tended to live for centuries. Anything could happen at any moment. There was no point in withholding herself for ever.

Her hands slipped under his uniform shirt, and she was fleetingly amused that he still insisted on wearing his uniform over the weekend.

Strangely enough, he didn't immediately reciprocate. She could feel his heart thudding fiercely in his side and his breathing come faster as their kisses deepened, but still, he kept his hands to himself…like a proper Vulcan gentleman.

It was quite arousing.

As their ministrations intensified, he offered a weak protest.

"Nyota—"

"It's okay," she murmured, kissing his throat, unbuttoning his shirt, and pushing it aside to bite at his chest. "I have an A-average, so I got my injection on Wednesday."

"But…," he blinked, slightly confused, "why now? It seems hardly appropriate…considering recent events."

She laughed softly. "It's a human thing, Spock. We don't handle the death of a peer too well." She pulled back from him, rose and stripped down to nothing. She didn't miss how his mouth slightly fell open, or how he couldn't look away. "Makes us want to assure ourselves that we're still alive, okay?"

There was a certain…logic to what she was saying.

More importantly, there were no secrets this time, no room for argument or anger or conflict of any kind. As his hands roamed all over her, he had to admit to himself how wonderful she felt. She moaned into his mouth and started undoing his slacks.

At the first tug, the strangest thing happened; Spock suddenly remembered a conversation he'd shared with his roommate a while back about how to prevent what humans called "early arrival."

_Think of something disturbing_, Hikaru had advised him. _It helps to make things last longer_.

Spock needed to employ that now. He was getting too excited too fast, eagerly stripping the last of his clothes and quickly pinning his girlfriend beneath him. This was a strange new level of arousal, this freedom, this knowing there would be no cries of "Stop." It was as though his mind disconnected from his body, and then fell several minutes behind. When he thought of touching something, he soon realized his hands were already there; if he thought to kiss somewhere it surprised him to find his mouth already there as well. His body was firmly in charge now, teased and tempted for so long it would not tolerate anything short of complete fulfillment this time.

It was actually kind of frightening. He'd grown up hearing horror stories of what happens when Vulcans lost control, especially around a weaker species.

_Think of something disturbing_.

The most logical choice to think of what could happen if he lost control. He could imagine what it was like for his ancestors, insatiably hungry, thirsty and violent. He thought to the ancient battles he'd read about, and imagine fields of dead warriors lying at his feet.

_She's not doing this for you, you know_, another voice entered his skull. _It's a just_ _a human reaction to grief_.

His blood burned, his skin seared, and his body moved all the more urgently. It made him selfishly press himself against her.

_And you're taking advantage of that grief_, the voice murmured. It eerily sounded like his father. _Desire of the flesh is most dishonorable. It is illogical to make love to someone who's using it strictly as a distraction._

Nyota suddenly moaned loudly beneath him, the pleasurable sound cutting through his thoughts, through his distracting logic, reminding his body of its singe goal. All her words were incoherent save for one.

"_Please_."


	33. Chapter 33

**Honor Pt. 2**

_Finally_.

Finally, the one word every young man craved to hear, the word _he'd_ craved to hear since he'd first experienced discomfort at the mercy of her lips.

His suddenly mind flashed back to their beautiful night on the black shores of Illias Prime, after he'd dried her tears at the opera, and before they'd had their first kiss.

As affection for her surged through him, his body responded impatiently, seeking entry, and taking it once it was found. Her body resisted briefly, and she made a noise of pain—the worst noise to make around a Vulcan in heat.

He took her fully, biting her neck and shoulders as she did so. From a distance, he heard her murmur, "Ow," and while his mind figured slowing down would be a good idea, his body merely plowed on, its movements forceful and unyielding. Beneath him, she stiffened, as if bracing herself against his repeated assault, and her body's reaction caused him mind-shattering excitement.

_Think of something disturbing_, his mind rasped quickly, almost in a panic. _Go back to the fields of death_.

He could see them clearly in his mind's eye now, the bleeding soldiers lying in the ancient desert. He'd killed them in his mind, all of them; he could smell their sweat and blood on the hot winds of his homeworld.

That probably wasn't the best choice of vision. It spurred his body into overdrive, blocking his mind out completely as it took what it wanted, _had_ wanted for so long. Soon his body was tensing, stiffening, tightening, and he thought his heart was going to burst out of his side.

The explosion this time outdid every other before it. It split his mind into a million pieces as he collapsed heavily upon her, trying to regain his breathing. For several moments he could neither hear nor see anything clearly.

Eventually, his senses returned, and with them an unexpected awkwardness.

What did one say after such an experience? Was there an appropriate ritual or protocol? Silence stretched tightly and lengthily between the couple, and it was seriously ruining his good mood. Spent and sated in a way no hand or mouth ministrations ever could, Spock rolled off Nyota and stared at the ceiling, wishing she would hurry up and speak.

Instead, she remained stubbornly silent beside him, also refusing to make eye contact.

Falteringly, Spock attempted conversation. "Did…did I hurt you?" It was a perfectly logical question.

"Yes," she answered softly, honestly, making him wince. "But that's expected the first time…for us."

His sigh of relief was subtle. "And...next time?" he asked tentatively.

"No pain," she assured him, "or rather, at least not as much."

"I see."

"Spock," she began, and he could hear the tightness in her voice, "is this what Vulcans are like during the _Pon Farr?_"

Her words chilled him at once. He had not heard that term spoken aloud in years and once it had been explained to him, he had hoped to never hear it again.

Not to mention, from a _human_.

"You know?" he asked stiffly. "You know about…the Time?"

"Vira told me months ago, after conducting extensive research," she nodded. "Is it like this?"

_That goddamned book-reading, nose-sticking, thunder-stealing Trill! Of course she'd know! She_ always _knows!_

"No," he bit out, not really wanting to have to talk about this. It was like having to read Kurik's work all over again—awkward. He didn't want to tell her. He'd never wanted to tell her. Unfortunately, lying and keeping secrets had proved most detrimental before. Above all, this he could not lie about to her. It would be not only thoroughly dishonorable, but irresponsible. "It's much more violent."

He felt her freeze and it made him flinch. Had he hurt her that badly this time? He noticed she wasn't moving much. Had he sprained or dislocated something?

"Do you feel…alive?" he asked, repressing the anxiety in his voice. He could not lie; he wanted this again, was going to _need_ it again. There was no turning back; not all the meditation and spiritual retreats could ever reverse the effects of such unbridled pleasure. Yes, it was dishonorable to accept Nyota's physical invitation, rather than make her discuss her feelings, and yes his mother was very likely to be disappointed. But Spock was a half-human, male and hot-blooded and adolescent—he had miles and miles and decades to go before he could reach traditional Vulcan sainthood. And he wanted to live before he became a dried up prude like his father. "Did this ease your grief?"

She burst into tears in response, rolling over to bury her face into his naked chest, weeping violently.

Okay…guess not.

"We can't just pretend it doesn't matter," she sobbed. "I may not have liked N'Tal, or trusted her, or even really wanted to be around her, but she was my friend…ish. And I don't care if she satisfied Romulan honor—she was a girl, barely older than I am, and her suicide was _wrong!_ We have to _do_ something, Spock! We can't just get on with our lives—we have to do _something_ for before we go on!"

***

"Um…hi everyone. For those of you who don't know me, my name is Hikaru Sulu of Laidley House. I want to thank you all for coming to our candlelight vigil here in the holodeck. I-I wasn't certain it could fit so many people. Then again, I didn't think this many would show up.

"Ahem, as you all know, James Kirk of Hodges House is on a temporary leave. I got a message from him finally. He thanks you all for your well wishes, and promises he'll back to—and I quote—'kicking ass next semester.' He's sorry he couldn't join us, but the death of his girlfriend has been weighing really hard on him.

"Before we all go home for the holidays, beaming back to our native countries and flying back to our myriad worlds, it came to my attention from a surprising number of you that we needed to do this for N'Tal.

"N'Tal was the ninth and youngest child of Mioral and Kesala of Romulus. When she was eight, she lost her mother, the valorous commander of a warbird. When she was nine, she picked up her first blade, mastering it quickly. And when she was ten, she saw the bodies of her eight brothers shipped home. They had died bravely at their posts in battle, and were honored by all of Romulus.

"I want to end this now by reading a poem she wrote for her brothers. Apparently, she composed this shortly before she died, as though in ominous prophecy. She shared it with Jim, and he was kind enough to message it to me this morning. She called it 'The Bolarian Prayer.'

"_Blow, blow the battle horn_

_I will not mourn_

_For though the life is lost and ended,_

_I am free_

_I am Tiral's Legacy, Pride of the Praetor_

_Of the infamous blood, green as a jeweled sea_

_In our voices, truth shall carry_

_We who ruled and reigned without fear and shame_

_From ages past, we still endure_

_Unshackled by senseless tyranny_

_I will not mourn, for we are free_."

~Epilogue~

Subcommander Netris raised an eyebrow, unsure of what he saw before him. Rumors traveled faster than warp nine in the galaxies, and now was not the time to debate fact from rumor. He wasn't in the mood.

"You should change your name," he suggested dryly, leaning back into his desk. Outside his office was nothing but blue soils and black skies. On days like this, he missed the blistering sun. He was probably the only inhabitant of Bolaria IX _not_ charmed by its ghostly beauty. "Our sociologists' studies show that in the past fortnight, _no one_ on the homeworld carries the name N'Tal."

The slender, well-built girl raised her own eyebrow. "My name is irrelevant. I am my family's only known surviving member. All that was my father's belongs to me now. That, Subcommander, is what is relevant."

"How did you get off Earth?" he asked, torn between alarm and amusement. "Reports say you are dead. Your body was found. It sent one young man into madness, and plunged the rest of the students into grief." He tilted his head to the side. "Not what I would expect from a daughter of Romulus."

"The headmistress and I contrived to fake my death," N'Tal replied briskly. The death of her father had aged her drastically. She carried herself with the grim grace of battle-weary commander. "The young man who found me was looking at a holographic corpse. I was already off-world by that time." She leaned boldly towards him, both palms on his desk. "A true daughter of Romulus thinks of her family first before ending her own pain."

Again, Netris's eyebrow went up. "Your family is dead," he reminded her coolly. "As much as I honored your father and planned to accomplish great works with him, I have accepted that he is gone. In this business, many die and leave us behind. We too, N'Tal, shall die fighting for this."

N'Tal's voice came out colder than the skin of a Trill.

"Then it is our duty to make sure we take as many enemies as possible with us when we go."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
A/N: This marks the end of _Into the Valley_. The story continues immediately with _…And Out to the Wilds_. And remember: comment, comment, comment, even if it's just two words. I like to know when I'm on track.

6


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